


Not Just Another Grain Of Sand

by killingmonsterswritingthings



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Car Accidents, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:42:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingmonsterswritingthings/pseuds/killingmonsterswritingthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mikey was struck with the loss of his brother and the task to take care of his niece, Pete was there to witness it. He did his best to help, but he was never sure if he was good enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I always seem to get the ideas that nobody is ever going to want to read. Ah, well, this story was being persistent so I had to write it.
> 
> I think the warning and the summary are enough, but really, if you can't stomach major character death, don't read this. This story deals with the loss of loved ones and the struggles of the ones left behind to move on. I have made myself cry during writing the first few chapters.
> 
> Obviously I'm trying to be as sensible as possible with the subject and I hope that this never, ever happens in real life. I just want all of them to be happy and healthy.

 

I had always thought I was done with the worst days of my life. That those were in the past and I intended to leave them there. But obviously, life didn’t work that way.

The worst day of my (and possibly of a bunch of other people’s) life started like any other day in my currently happy routine.  I got up early – because while fatherhood hadn’t helped much with going to sleep before 3am, the responsibility of having a four-year-old still got me out of bed before 9. I made breakfast – waffles for everyone and immense loads of coffee for the grown-ups. I helped Bronx get dressed when he stumbled into the kitchen with his T-Shirt put on the wrong way. We went to wake up Mikey together. We had breakfast together.

“You don’t have to go to the studio today, right?” I asked, because our schedules were unpredictable and something might have changed since yesterday.

Mikey shook his head. “Nah, Gee is taking Lynz and Bandit on some weekend trip now that Lynz is back,” he shrugged and I just grinned. Being in a band when you had a family and children was grounding but could also get in the way of work a lot. Not that we were blaming anyone. Because we loved our families.

“Good,” I said, “because I gotta head over for a bit later. Guest vocals and last minute stuff.” I waved a hand through the air in a gesture to accompany my words and almost knocked Bronx’ juice off the table in the process. Luckily Mikey caught it before it went flying.

We were a well-oiled machine by now. After both of our marriages had ended we’d just sort of gravitated towards each other. As friends at first, Mikey moved in with me because he didn’t want to live alone but not wanting to disturb his brother’s perfect family life either. I was less worried about Bronx being upset by the change because he was used to different people walking around the house and he knew Mikey. He was thrilled when I told him ‘Uncle Mikey’ would be moving in. But well, eight years didn’t change a damn thing in the end and we ended up sharing everything again.

“Can we watch cat videos?” Bronx asked and I shot Mikey an amused look.

“Sure, little man,” Mikey said. “But you gotta finish breakfast first.”

“And no cheating. I know Bear likes waffles, too, but they’re not good for him,” I added.

Bronx pulled a disappointed face but nodded vehemently. I ate the rest of my waffles and watched as Mikey poured his second cup of coffee, the sleepiness finally vanishing from his limbs.

 

After cleaning up the breakfast table we all huddled around my laptop and opened Youtube for hours of entertainment. For some reason we didn’t stop with cat videos and progressed to llamas. I almost forgot that I had to leave around noon, but luckily both Mikey and Patrick reminded me – the latter via a phone call. So I kissed my two boys goodbye and drove to the studio. Bands don’t run themselves without their members present.

I hadn’t even been at the studio for two hours when my phone started ringing, flashing Mikey’s name and photo over the screen. I rolled my eyes at Patrick, mouthed a “boyfriend” and exited the room to not disturb the others while talking.

I answered the phone with “Did Bronx start spilling milk cartons again?” because Mikey usually didn’t call me during studio hours. There only had been the one incident where Bronx had taken all the milk from the fridge and created a lake on the kitchen floor for his previously made paper boats.

“Pete, I don’t know what to do.” And I immediately knew something’s gone wrong. Something bigger than having to mop up puddles of milk. I could hear the noise of traffic which meant Mikey was in the car.

“What’s going on?” I asked, clenching and unclenching my free hand at my side, my heart beating ten times faster than normally.

“I…,” Mikey trailed off, obviously not sure what to say. Then he just started rushing it out and even I had trouble keeping up with his words. “I don’t know, I’m in the car and I have Bronx with me and I don’t know what to _do_. I’m on my way to the hospital and I… It’s Gee and Lynz. They were in a car crash and the hospital just called me and I don’t. What am I gonna do?”

For a moment I was frozen. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move.  I wasn’t even sure I had heard Mikey correctly.

Then I forced myself to take a deep shuddering breath. Mikey couldn’t take Bronx to the hospital with him for this. My first thought was Gabe, but obviously the guy had to be out of the fucking country right now. And Ash was out of town, too.

“Just bring him here,” I said, already on my way to tell Patrick. “And it’s gonna be ok, you hear me?”

“I don’t know.” Mikey’s voice was so small that everything I wanted to do was pull him close and protect him. Which I couldn’t do right now.

I kept holding the phone close to my chest even after the call ended and poked my head through the door, frantically waving at Patrick. It must have shown on my face that something was wrong because everybody immediately dropped what they were doing and came over to where I had slipped back into the room and was now desperately clinging to the door handle.

“I have to go to the hospital,” I told them, probably as white as a sheet. “Mikey’s bringing Bronx over so… Can you take care of him?” Patrick just nodded, not asking any questions but I felt like I needed to clarify things, anyway. “Gerard and his family had an accident. We have to go.”

And with that I was already on my way out of the building to wait for Mikey, Patrick trailing behind me. He was quiet, just standing close enough to me to be comforting so I didn’t break out into full-body shaking. It didn’t even take ten minutes until Mikey’s car stopped in front of us with screeching brakes. Before I could even react Patrick was already at the door, scooping Bronx up from the backseat.

“Go,” he said when he passed me on the way to the studio’s doors but I had to put a hand on Bronx’ curls first. Had to make sure he was safe. “ _Go_ ,” Patrick urged and that sent me into motion. I hurried to the passenger’s door. It might not be the wisest choice to let Mikey drive but we had no time for moving places right now. I hadn’t even closed the door yet, let alone buckled my seatbelt, when Mikey was already hitting the gas again.

Mikey’s knuckles were white around the wheel but he automatically reached out with his right hand and I linked our fingers together over the gear stick. I felt the need to tell him that everything would be alright but we both knew that it might not be. And I had never liked lying to Mikey, of all people.

We probably broke over a dozen traffic rules on our way but neither one of us cared. When we finally stumbled into the entrance area of the hospital Mikey took off sprinting towards the information desk. I caught up with him two seconds later.

“Way,” he panted. “My name is Way. I’m… I’m looking for my brother. And his wife and daughter. Gerard, Lindsey and Bandit.”

I had to admit that I had forgotten all about Bandit until now and now I had another person to feel scared for. And guilty. How could I have forgotten.

“I’m sorry, sir. I cannot give you any information yet but if you will wait a minute a doctor will be with you shortly.”

Mikey looked like he wanted to protest but I caught him by the sleeve of his hoodie and started dragging him towards the waiting area. I didn’t expect him to sit down and he started pacing immediately after I released him. I let him.

To be fair it really didn’t take them long to give us an update, but instead of a doctor we got a stressed looking nurse. Her eyes flashed between us in recognition before a mask of professionalism hid her reaction.

“Mr. Way,” she addressed Mikey. “Your brother and his wife were critically injured in a car accident and are currently undergoing surgery. I’m sorry that I can’t provide you with any further information right now but the doctors are doing their best.”

There was a second of silence and I reached for Mikey’s hand. “What about my niece?” he whispered.

A sad smile appeared on the nurse’s face. “She has minor injuries and is conscious but we’d like to keep her here under observation for a few nights.”

“Can we see her?” Mikey asked and I could tell that he was glad, that he was still hurting and terrified but glad that Bandit was okay.

“I’m not supposed –,” the nurse said with an unsure look but I cut her off with all the authority I could muster.

“Just let us see her. She has to be freaked out. We’re familiar faces,” I said, squeezing Mikey’s hand slightly and feeling relieved when he squeezed back. I knew he’d need the distraction to not completely freak out. We both hated hospitals – who didn’t? – and having a little person to focus on would maybe make him worry less about Gerard and Lindsey.

She sighed but nodded. “Follow me.”

We obediently followed her through a few corridors until she opened a door and revealed a little girl in a hospital gown sitting on a bed.

“Uncle Mikey,” she cried when we entered and immediately reached out towards him. Mikey was at her side with three steps, picking her up and cradling her to his chest.

“Hey, baby, I’m here. I’m here,” I could hear him mutter. “You’re okay. You’re fine.”

I signaled the supervising nurse and the one who had led us here to give them a minute and after exchanging glances both of them luckily seemed to decide not to question me but left the room to stand outside the door.

“The car is all broken,” Bandit said with the voice of a child who had been crying for hours. “And there was blood. And Mama and Daddy were sleeping.”

I could feel my heart break. Bandit was just an innocent child, younger even than Bronx, and she didn’t understand what was going on but I knew that she was never going to forget this, despite her age. Maybe it would become her first memory later. And I hated myself for the thought.

“Did you get hurt?” Mikey asked, still holding her like she was the single most fragile thing in the world – which she probably was to him right now.

“Just my hand,” Bandit sniffled and I could see that her left arm was in a cast. “And head hurts.”

Mikey seemed hesitant to put her back down but he finally settled on sitting down on the bed with her on his lap so he could inspect her head and hand. I carefully stepped closer, unsure about what to say or do, but when Mikey tore his gaze away from Bandit for a moment and met my eyes, I could see the silent plea in them. I sat down to his left on the bed and tentatively smiled at Bandit.

“Hi Bandit,” I said. For a moment I was scared she wouldn’t remember me even though she had been over for several playdates with Bronx.

She looked scared and confused for a second but then she relaxed against Mikey. “Uncle Pete,” she said and I would have smiled if the situation hadn’t been so fucked up.

“That’s the name,” I said, forcing myself to sound happy. There was a band-aid on her left cheek and I could see some nasty bruises forming already. “We’re gonna keep you company until your Mom and Dad get back, okay?”

“They got hurt, too?”

Mikey shot me a horrified look and I felt like crying. This was so wrong.

“We don’t know,” I admitted. I could have lied, but what good would it have done? She would demand to see her parents sooner or later and it would all explode if they weren’t there. I forbade myself any further thoughts. I frantically tried to come up with something to distract her. “Didn’t you get to choose a color for your cast?” I asked, pointing at her arm.

She shook her head.  “No but they said I can have another one later.”

“Which color would you like?”

Her little face scrunched up in thought. “Green,” she finally decided. “Or red.”

I smiled and nodded. “Good choice.”

She started complaining about headaches after a while and Mikey called in one of the nurses who eyed us all for a moment and then shuffled out of the room again to get a doctor. They ended up making her lie down and giving her some painkillers.

“It’s gonna make the pain go away,” I promised her with Mikey sitting next to me, holding her little hand. “And it’s gonna make you sleepy, so you can sleep for a while if you want to.”

“Okay,” she nodded.

When she finally dozed off I looked over at Mikey and he immediately scooted closer and put his head on my shoulder. I brought my hand up to his hair and started massaging his scalp but I still didn’t tell him that everything would be okay.

 

 

Bandit hadn’t been sleeping for long when another nurse came into the room and told us that a doctor wanted to talk to us. Mikey looked from the guy to me and then to Bandit.

“She’s going to be ok on her own for a while,” I said softly.

The guy led us through more corridors, until I had no idea where we were anymore, to an exhausted looking doctor. I could tell that she didn’t have good news.

“Mr. Way and,” she looked at Mikey and then at me.

“Pete Wentz,” I said curtly. “I’m his partner.”

She nodded before redirecting her eyes to Mikey. “We had to perform emergency surgery on your brother and your sister-in-law.” She wiped at her forehead with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, but I have to inform you that there were complications and… we lost Mrs. Way.”

“What do you mean _lost her_?” I asked in Mikey’s stead, my heartbeat too loud in my ears. I knew what she meant but I didn’t want it to be true.

“She’s dead, Pete,” Mikey whispered. And that’s when it occurred to me for the first time that this was the worst day of my life.

There was a beat of silence, then Mikey took a shuddering breath next to me. “What about my brother?” he asked and I couldn’t even tell if there was still any hope in his voice.

“He’s out of surgery,” the doctor said. “I wish I could give you better news but he’s still in critical condition and we’re not sure if he’s going to make it through the night.”

“Okay,” Mikey said. And then again. “Okay. Can I see him?”

She looked at him with fucking _pity_ and then to me and I nodded. It might be the last time he would ever see his damn brother, just let him.

“He’s in intensive care, but yes, you can see him.”

“Do you want me to go back and stay with Bandit?” I asked. Because I would understand if Mikey wanted some time alone with Gerard.

He looked at me for a moment and I could tell that he was considering it but then he shook his head. “Can you come with me?” he asked in the tiniest voice I’d ever heard from him. He was so scared.

“Hey, of course,” I said, slipping my hand back into his. If he wanted me there I wasn’t going to say no and deny him my support.

 

The ICU was the worst place in a hospital. It made me feel horrible and helpless and I wanted to turn around and just leave but I couldn’t. I reminded myself that I was doing this for Mikey and stayed by his side.

Gerard looked tiny in the bed, hooked up to half a dozen different machines and I hesitantly let go of Mikey’s hand, only kept a hand on the back of his neck as an anchor for us both as he crouched down next to his brother.

“Gee, hey,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “I know you can fucking hear me, okay? So listen, you don’t get to do this. You need to come back. For Bandit. And for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Please, Gee.”

He bent forward and rested his forehead on his brother’s hand and if my heart hadn’t been hurting so much already it would’ve broken into a million pieces at this point. I imagined that they were having one of their silent conversations because it was easier than facing the reality.

We stayed there for a while, me not saying anything, Mikey being silent for most of the time, too. I could hear him whisper “I love you”s against Gerard’s skin from time to time though.

Then the heart monitor started beeping furiously and Mikey jerked back as violent tremors ran through Gerard’s body.

“Shit,” I breathed, pulling Mikey backwards as people came rushing over. There was yelling and chaos that must have been organized for them but pure hell for us.

I held Mikey close to me but he was straining, trying to break free, trying to get back to his brother. I couldn’t blame him for it but I couldn’t let him go either.

“We have to let them do their work,” I told him in a hopeless attempt to calm him down while they were preparing the defibrillator. “They’re gonna fix him.” And I hoped to god I wasn’t lying.

But I was always wrong when I desperately wanted to be right.

Mikey kept screaming for his brother not to leave him, that he had promised, that he couldn’t do this. And I kept my grip around him firm while he broke apart.

I watched in silence as Gerard Way’s heart stopped beating forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Pete from first person POV is scary. It's even scarier how easy it is. He has good thoughts.
> 
> I'm not actually sure if Bearenstain is male or female. I don't even know how to properly spell his/her name because it's 'Berenstain Bears'? But oh well. 'Bear' it is. Tell me if you have a problem with the dog being male or know anything about it.
> 
> This is a WIP (I have the first 3 chapters done) and I'll try to update as regularly as possible. I'm setting Wednesdays as update days for now but I can't promise anything because my motivation, inspiration and moods are fickle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get this chapter 'early' because it's 1:45 in the morning here. So far this fic has been better received than I thought it would, so thank you. :)

To my surprise, Mikey didn’t fall apart completely. At least not on the outside. He cried, oh god, he did, but he pulled himself together fairly quickly. And it scared and hurt me so much.

After he had calmed down we just stood there in the corridor leaned against the wall for a while. I had no fucking idea what to do and Mikey just stared at his shoes, his right hand wrapped around his left arm. “Mikey,” I said, cautiously, but he shook his head.

“I need to call our parents,” he said after a moment. “I need to call the others…. Oh god.”

He just sank to the floor right there, drawing his knees up to his chest. So much for not falling apart. I sat down next to him, carefully putting my arm around him. We were big on physical contact, had always been, but right now nothing was like usual and I had no idea how to deal with the situation. My mind was frozen and racing at the same time.

“Oh god,” Mikey repeated, turning towards me and looking me in the eye for the first time. “Bandit. What am I gonna do?” He looked so fucking lost. Everything about him screamed ‘Help me’.

“Baby, you have to breathe,” I told him. “Just breathe for a moment, okay?”  If this was already the worst day of _my_ life, for all I knew Mikey must have felt like his had just ended. It wasn’t the end of the world but it sure as hell felt like it.

We sat there for a moment; I pulled him closer and made sure that he wasn’t going to start hyperventilating.

“Listen to me,” I said finally, going for soothingly, brushing his hair out of his face. “You’re not alone, okay? I know it’s hard to believe right now. I know I’m nowhere fucking near good enough but I’m going to help you.”

“She’s just a child,” Mikey whispered.

“I know, I know,” I mumbled, stroking his hair.

And then I remembered how many things we would have to deal with. Families, bands, the public. And all I wanted to do was scream. But I didn’t. Instead I pulled myself together and looked at Mikey. He was trying to be strong so desperately and I couldn’t be the one to break under this. He had just lost his brother.

“Should I call anyone for you?” I asked.

“No. I have to do it”, he said but I could feel him shaking against my side. “Just… don’t go anywhere.”

“Of course not,” I mumbled, kissing the top of his head. I wouldn’t leave him ever again. Not voluntarily.

He fumbled for his phone in his pocket and it took ages until he finally had it in his trembling hand. He tried dialing but instead just dropped it to the floor. “Shit!”

“It’s okay,” I said, picking it up. “Who do you want to call?”

“My Mom.”

Finding Donna in his contacts wasn’t the hardest task I’d ever had to do and I was glad to be able to do _anything_. I hit the call button and then handed Mikey his phone back. He held it to his ear and we waited. My heart felt like it wanted to jump right out of my chest. And not in a good way, at all.

“Mom,” he finally breathed into the phone and I was sure she could tell from that alone that something had happened. I let my head fall back against the wall and tried not to listen and just be _there_ , but it was impossible. How does a son tell his mother that her other son just died? “Mom, I’m so sorry. Gerard and Lindsey… they’re dead.” We both flinched at the words, even though we had known they were coming, Mikey being the one to say them. There was a pause, then Mikey let out a shaky sigh. “I wish I wasn’t. They had a car crash this morning. I… I saw him die, Mom.” I automatically tightened my hold around him. Fuck. I could hear barely audible sobbing from the other end of the line. Mikey didn’t tell his mother not to cry.

Then his Dad seemed to take over the phone. “Hey Dad,” Mikey mumbled. “No, god, Dad, I’m alright. I wasn’t in the car. They were on their way to their damn weekend trip.” Another pause. “Yeah, she was. But she’s ok, she’s sleeping right now.” I figured they were talking about Bandit. “I don’t _know_ , Dad! I’m with Pete right now and I don’t fucking know. I just… fuck … No, I didn’t tell anyone yet. I need to call the others and get back to Bandit. But I can’t _think_ , Dad.”

I carefully took the phone from his hand and Mikey didn’t protest. He had done his best.

“Don, hey, it’s Pete,” I said, forcing myself to breathe evenly and not freak out. I had no idea what to say, either. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, son.” He sounded defeated.

“I’m gonna take care of them,” I told him. “Mikey and Bandit are safe with me.”

“I know that. I’m glad. Thank you.”

“We’re going to call you again soon, okay? We have to call the others now and figure stuff out.” Because there was a lot to figure out. I ended the call and looked at Mikey. “Who next?”

“We should call Frank and Ray at the same time. Like… a conference,” he said. “But… can we go to Bandit first? I just… I need to be sure.”

I simply nodded and got up, pulling him with me. I knew that feeling. Maybe not to this extent, maybe not this violent, but Bandit was the one person coming out of this alive and he needed to be certain that she wasn’t going to leave him, too.

So we tried to find our way back to Bandit’s room and miraculously ended up there ten minutes later. In the back of my mind I was wondering why no one had come to talk to us yet because hello, Mikey had just seen his brother die. But somehow it wasn’t important, either.

She was still sleeping and Mikey visibly relaxed at the sight.

“I thought she… might just disappear,” he confessed in a whisper and I was so fucking glad that he was brave enough to tell me that. It wasn’t a ridiculous thought. And he knew I understood.

“I know,” I said, stepping closer to the bed. “But she’ll be alright.” Because she would. She might go through some horrible times but with luck and the years she would grow up perfectly. I had nothing to believe in but I believed in that.

“What am I supposed to do, Pete?” Mikey asked, sitting down next to her on the bed, looking from Bandit to me.

“First off all,” I said, stepping closer. “You don’t have to do any of this alone. I’m with you, okay? We’ll figure it out. Bronx likes Bandit and he’ll be good for her right now.”

He looked at me in surprise. “You mean we can take her home?”

“Don’t you want to?” Because I would understand if he didn’t. Having to take care of his brother’s daughter; a constant reminder.

“No, no, of course,” he immediately said. “I just… wasn’t sure if you…”

“Oh my god,” I breathed out, putting my arms around him. “I told you I’m gonna help you.  I’m not going to leave you alone with this.”

“Okay.”

“Good,” I said, attempting a weak smile.

 

We just sat there for a while, watching Bandit breathe. Then we called Frank and Ray together and turned this day into the worst day of their lives, too.

Frank was the one to volunteer to call their manager and talk about a statement.  Because they had to make one.

In that moment I hated being famous like never before.

 

“Is this a nightmare?” Mikey asked me, hours later.

“It is,” I answered, “but it’s real.” He hid his face against my neck. “I’m sorry.”

 

 

Mikey told me to go home repeatedly. I said no every time. But when he reminded me at 2am in a hushed voice that I had a son and that he’d be alright on his own for a few hours I did drive home.

Patrick had texted me earlier to tell me that he had taken Bronx home. I had never been happier that I had given Patrick a key to my house.

I hadn’t told him anything but when I came home, Patrick met me at the door and pulled me into a tight hug. I hugged back just as tightly and finally let go. Patrick stroked my back through my loud sobs.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. It’s really really not.”

“It’s all over the Internet and made the news. I’m so sorry, Pete.”

I wiped at my eyes furiously. I shouldn’t be the one crying right now. I hadn’t lost my brother. “They don’t know shit, Trick. Gerard died in the fucking ICU. We were _there_.”

Patrick tried to guide me into the living room but I went right into the kitchen. I wasn’t hungry but I definitely needed some coffee right now. He watched as I furiously pressed some buttons on the machine and didn’t say that I shouldn’t take my anger out on kitchen equipment.

“Is he asleep?” I finally asked when I had my hands securely wrapped around a mug of coffee.

Patrick tilted his head slightly to the right. “What kind of uncle do you think I am? Of course he is.”

I managed a weak smile. “Thanks.”

He just shook his head. I sipped my coffee.

 

When I finally put the empty mug down and Patrick and I headed upstairs to Bronx’ room, Patrick stayed in the doorway while I carefully padded through the dark room to Bronx’ bed.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and Bronx instinctively rolled towards me. I buried my hand in his curls and hoped that I wouldn’t wake him. “Hey, buddy.”

“I’ll be downstairs,” Patrick whispered and I nodded, not taking my eyes off Bronx.

When I could hear Patrick’s footsteps on the stairs I laid down next to Bronx. I didn’t sleep, I just laid there in the dark, looking at my son, hearing and feeling him breathe. I knew it was a stupid worry, that he wasn’t going to suddenly die in his sleep, but I was so scared that only being here with him could help me.

But it worked. Eventually the fear subsided. Bronx was safe and Patrick would probably stay with him if I asked him to. Bronx was safe and Bandit was safe too. And Mikey needed me.

I went back to the hospital at 7am.

 

 

We took Bandit home two days later.

I had gone to Gerard and Lindsey’s house with Mikey’s key to get some of her clothes and toys and we had decided to get the rest of her stuff later.

She still didn’t know about her parents but kept asking constantly and we knew that we couldn’t do anything against her finding out. So our plan was to tell her once we were home with her. The hospital didn’t seem to be the right place and we both just wanted to go home.

But when we got to the car, Bandit refused to get in. She started crying and clung to Mikey’s neck, begging him not to put her in the car.

“Where’s Mama and Daddy?” she sobbed and I knew all three of us had trouble breathing in this moment. “I don’t wanna get in the car.”

“But we have to get home somehow, B,” Mikey told her, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “And it’s too far to walk.”

“But the car is gonna break, too.”

“No, it’s a special car,” I told her. God, how I hated lying to her. “I promise you, it’s not gonna break. And when we get home you can play with Bronx and let him draw on your cast.”

She hiccupped, buried her face in the crook of Mikey’s neck and made a horrible wailing noise. “It’s gonna make crash… and… and you’re gonna leave, too. Like Mama and Daddy.”

Oh god.

“We’re not going to leave you,” Mikey said but his voice was shaking.

“Hey, Bandit, look at me,” I said and was relieved when she did lift her head and looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Uncle Mikey is going to sit in the backseat with you the whole time, okay?”

I wanted to promise her that she would never have to get in a car again. I wanted to tell her that we would carry her everywhere and protect her from every evil.

She looked at me for a moment, then she gave the tiniest nod and put her head back against Mikey’s chest. “Okay.”

 

The drive home wasn’t too long, thank god, and by the time we pulled into the driveway Bandit had calmed down. Mikey carried her to the door that I opened for them.

Patrick and Bronx were in the living room, watching cartoons, and Bear came over to greet us so Mikey put down Bandit and she hugged the dog.

It didn’t take longer than ten minutes – Patrick had just left to finally go home and catch more than a few hours of sleep – until she looked up where she was sitting on the floor with Bear and Bronx. “I want to go home,” she told Mikey, her brows furrowed.

“You’re gonna stay with us for a while, remember? We told you yesterday,” Mikey said.

“Yeah, but I wanna go home now.”

Mikey and I shared a look and I sighed. “Okay, you two. Let’s sit down on the sofa, okay?”

Bronx looked at me in confusion but got up and dragged Bandit with him. Bear followed them to the couch.

“I can’t do this,” Mikey told me in a whisper. “I know I have to but– “

“We’ll do it together,” I said. “But she’s going to need you, even if she says she doesn’t.” He swallowed but nodded.

We sat down on the sofa with them and a moment later I had Bronx half on my lap and Mikey leaning against me. Bandit looked at Mikey warily but climbed into his lap nonetheless.

I had thought about how to approach this topic but still didn’t really know how. This was even worse than telling Mikey’s parents. How the fuck do you tell a little girl that her parents are dead and that she’s never going to see them again?

What I hadn’t taken into account was Bronx.

“Are Bandit’s parents dead?” he asked.

Before we could even react, Bandit made a little ‘Oh’ sound. “No,” she then said. I stared at Mikey in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, trying to hug her but she pushed his hands away.

“They’re not dead!”

“Bandit…”

“No!” She jumped from Mikey’s lap and landed on the floor on all fours, scrambling up and turning around to face us, her little hands balled into fists at her sides. “You’re lying!”

“I wish I was,” Mikey said, shooting me a helpless glance.

“You’re stupid!” Bandit screamed. “You’re a stupid liar!”

I got up, because I had witnessed enough of Bronx’ temper tantrums to know that this could only end in tears and flying fists – children’s fists, but fists nonetheless. I tried to pull Bandit into a hug but she stepped back, tripping and falling to the floor.

“Go away! I want my Mama!” She got up again and almost launched herself at Bear but the dog was smart enough to get out of her way.

“Bandit,” I tried again but that only caused her to start hitting my thighs.

“Where’s my Daddy? I want my Daddy!”

“Bandit, please,” Mikey said, sliding from the couch and inching closer to her over the floor but I looked at him and shook my head. I ignored Bandit hitting every centimeter of me she could reach and pulled her into an embrace, holding her against my body so she would stop hurting me and herself.

“I’m sorry,” I told her, even if she wouldn’t understand.

She tried to wench free but even though her fury gave her strength I was still bigger and stronger by a lot. Overpowering little children like this was one of my least favorite things, but right now it was necessary.

We ended up sitting on the floor, Bandit between me and Mikey. He was afraid to touch her; I could see it in the hesitance of his movements and by the fear in his eyes. Bandit was crying violently, the sobs shaking her whole body. I just held her and mumbled soothing things into her hair.

I felt Bronx by my side and I was afraid. How would he react to all of this?

I carefully moved and put Bandit closer to Mikey so I could look at my son, but he wasn’t meeting my eyes and looked at Bandit instead. And for the first time ever I couldn’t read the expression in his face for a moment. Then Bronx was crawling over my legs and put his little arms around Bandit. And I had no idea if I was supposed to be proud of my son or scared shitless. Mikey just shifted and put his arms around both the kids so they wouldn’t fall over. We watched as Bandit clung to Bronx’ shoulders.

“You can stay with us and we’re gonna be your new family,” he told her.

“But I want my Daddy,” she cried.

“Me too,” Mikey said, stroking her hair and I had the urge to seal all four of us into this house for eternity to keep us out of harm’s way. It would probably end badly, but it would be worth a shot.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2am, new chapter time!
> 
> I'm always 2-3 chapters ahead of writing, btw, so that this one ended up being the one uploaded today is just... fucking irony. 
> 
> Oh, and I'll keep writing. I miss MCR so damn much it hurts and the last 4 days were a fucking nightmare but I'm slowly recovering.

The funeral was five days later. We had to fly to Jersey, obviously, because Donna didn’t want her son and daughter-in-law to be buried in LA.

So we boarded a plane in the early morning hours of the day before with two sleepy kids. I had debated leaving Bronx at home but after talking to Ashlee about it we had decided to take him with us so Bandit wasn’t going to be alone. The honor of bringing Gerard and Lindsey home had also fallen to us and it felt horrible to know that somewhere beneath us two caskets were being loaded into the cargo hold of the plane.

I tried to keep an eye on Mikey during the flight, which was hard because I also was in charge of the kids. Mikey was doing his best, but by now he looked exhausted and ready to sleep for three days straight. Neither of us had had much sleep in the past week, just restless hours of tossing and turning in the darkest hours of nights and minutes of dozing off when the exhaustion got the better of us.

It hurt to see Mikey try so hard. I knew he was doing his best not to shut down completely and that it took him everything to fight the urge to just hole up in our room – because I felt the same. But I knew it had to be a thousand times worse for him. And the worst thing about it all was that I also knew he wasn’t doing it for himself. He was doing it for Bandit.

He hadn’t cried since the day at the hospital and every time I had tried talking to him in a relatively quiet minute he had not responded properly. He was trying, but it wasn’t enough.

 

We were staying at the Ways’ house. I had been against it but had not voiced that opinion because Mikey obviously wanted to be close to his parents. I just wasn’t sure if it would be good for him or not.

The guest room was cramped with all four of us inside, but the kids were having a field day with the mattresses shoved together on the floor. We could make do for two nights. I watched Bandit and Bronx for a while, just glad that they still seemed to be able to forget and enjoy themselves. Because I couldn’t.

It had been hard with Bandit. There were times when she was perfectly fine but sometimes she would still demand to go home and see her parents. We had tried to explain to her that she couldn’t, but she didn’t understand. I couldn’t blame her. A lot of the time I wished I could be like her.

When I decided that it was safe to leave them alone for a moment I went to the kitchen where Mikey and his parents were sitting around the table in silence, drinking coffee. I sat down next to Mikey.

“They’re pretending to be Batman and Robin,” I told them in a weak attempt to lift the mood.

“Who’s who?” Don asked.

“Bronx is Batman because Bandit said she didn’t want to be him anyway because he’s too grumpy.”

I knew Mikey normally would have at least cracked a smile at this one but right now he only stared into his mug. How I hated all of this.

There was a silence in which I reached for Mikey’s mug and took a sip of coffee before I gave it back to him. He needed the caffeine more than I did. He also seemed to be gripping the mug like a lifeline. I wanted to tell him that I could be his rock but despite all my best efforts I wasn’t sure if I could be enough.

Finally I decided to bite the bullet and be the one to direct the nonexistent conversation to the unpleasant topic. It was hovering over us anyway, voiced or not.

“How are you holding up?” I asked.

Donna looked at her husband and they both sighed and shrugged. “Okay, I guess?” she said. “I don’t… I can’t really believe it yet, you know? Because nothing’s properly changed.”

“It’ll be worse after tomorrow,” Don added. “It’s just so wrong, you know?”

“There were times when I was afraid I would have to bury one of my sons,” Donna said. “But I thought those were in the past.”

I’d heard the saying a thousand times. Parents shouldn’t have to bury their children. But who said a brother shouldn’t have to bury their sibling? Who said a daughter shouldn’t have to bury her parents? It was all double standards.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Mikey said. “We never wanted to… He didn’t want to go.”

I thought that it was worse. That this time, Gerard had actually wanted to live and it had just been violently ripped from him.

“I know, baby, it’s okay.” She smiled at him and I could tell it was a real smile even though it was the saddest one I’d ever seen.

Then Don looked at Mikey. “What about you?”

Mikey kept looking at his coffee and for a moment I was scared he wasn’t going to say anything at all. “I don’t know,” he said after a moment. “I’d say I’m okay, but I’m not.”

I moved my chair closer to him and put an arm around him. “We try to keep everything as normal as possible for the kids,” I added.

“It’s gotta be hard, taking care of the two little ones.”

“We deal,” I shrugged.

“You know, we could take Bandit, if she’s too much for you,” Donna said and reached out to squeeze Mikey’s hand.

He shook his head. “No,” he said and I was surprised by how firm he uttered that one word. “No, she shouldn’t have to leave. She’s struggling enough as it is, we shouldn’t move her across the country on top of it all.”

“Okay,” Donna said. “Okay. I just wanted you to know that we’re there if you ever need help with her.”

“Thanks,” Mikey said.

And I was proud of him. No, he wasn’t trying for himself but he was fighting for Bandit harder than I’d ever seen anyone. It was probably pretty common. We didn’t fight for ourselves, it was easier with other people to fight for.

 

 

“But I wanna wear my red dress!”

“B, you can’t wear the red dress today,” Mikey said, rubbing his face. He had been trying to get her into the black dress for over twenty minutes now and while I had had no problems with Bronx, Bandit had been running through the whole house in her underwear.

“You know what?” I said, taking the dress from Mikey’s hands. “Just let her wear the red one.”

He shot me an incredulous look. “We can’t do that.”

I rolled my eyes. “We can and we will. Funerals are horrible either way. Imagine what Gerard would’ve done.” I knew it was a low blow but I also knew that Bandit should be allowed to wear what she wanted.

“Let her wear the red dress,” Mikey said after a moment.

“Exactly,” I nodded.

We turned to look at Bandit but she had already taken off running again, towards the guest room this time, yelling “Red dress, red dress!”

“Well, that’s gonna make the whole thing memorable,” Donna said, coming out of the master bedroom.

“As if it wasn’t memorable enough already.”

“It’s gonna be bittersweet, Mikey Way,” I told him, hugging him from behind.

“I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

I didn’t, either. But I hoped that one day we’d be able to look back and say that Bandit’s red dress had made this day definitely better. At least in hindsight.

Because obviously today would be a nightmare.

 

The decisions to have the caskets open during the ceremony had been Donna’s and no one had dared to fight her on it. There had been a debate over if we should let Bandit and Bronx look though. I left it up to Bronx because I was pretty sure he could handle it, but making the decision for Bandit wasn’t as easy. In the end Don said that it might give her a better understanding of what happened.

So we ended up standing in the graveyard’s little chapel, me carrying Bronx, Mikey carrying Bandit.

“Do you want to look into the coffins?” I asked the kids.

Bronx thought for a moment, then he nodded. “Yes, please.” I wasn’t sure if he had even properly understood what I had asked him.

“What’s in there?” Bandit asked and Mikey hugged her closer.

“Your Mom and Dad,” he said.

“I wanna see them,” she demanded. I looked at Mikey and he swallowed.

“Here we go,” he said under his breath as we walked up to the caskets after his parents.

Bronx didn’t react in any major way, I just had to hold his hands back when he tried to touch Lindsey’s hair.

I thought they looked peaceful, the both of them. Which was kind of ironic, because probably neither of them had ever had a quiet minute in life. But maybe that was just my fundamental understanding of death.

Bandit, on the other hand, started demanding that her parents should wake up. “They can’t wake up, baby,” Mikey told her, but she wouldn’t listen to him. Donna had to come back and take her so Mikey could have a minute alone. I lingered around a few feet to the side with Bronx to give Mikey as much space as he needed. I could see him say something to both of them and kiss their foreheads.

When he came over to where we were standing he looked like he was about to cry, but he had looked this way for days now and I hadn’t seen him shed a tear. It hurt me every time when I saw how much he tried to keep it together, how bravely he fought to not let go. And all I wanted to do was tell him that it was ok, that he could let go, that he could cry. That I’d be there to catch him.

But I didn’t. I just took his hand, balancing Bronx on one arm, and we walked to our seats together.

 

He had a speech prepared but I was sure that he was still debating whether to hold it or not.

I had prepared something, too, which he didn’t know about. It had involved a bit of sneaking around and a few phone calls, but I hoped that it would be worth it. Surprises during funerals probably weren’t the most critically acclaimed thing.

The chapel’s seats were filled now. Our row was the Ways, me, Bronx, Ray and Christa and Frank and his family but I knew that there was a dozen of other musicians further back.

There was a row of people that got up to the microphone to say things and I really tried to listen, but I also tried to keep my eyes on Mikey, Bronx and Bandit and those three really demanded my attention. Bronx was unusually quiet but I could tell he was just trying to make sense of what was going on. Bandit was visibly upset and Mikey tried to calm her down but he was shaking himself. I finally took Bandit from him and pulled her onto my lap.

“Do you think your Dad liked your dress?” I asked her as quietly as I could.

She hiccupped. “I… I think so?”

“That’s what I thought,” I said.

I looked up to see Donna smile at me and I smiled back. This was the least I could do.

I redirected my attention back to the room to notice the change going on and my smile transformed into a nervous mask immediately. A second microphone had been put up and I could hear rustling and murmurs in the back.

Then Gabe and William walked up to the front, each with an acoustic guitar.

The chapel was dead silent. I risked a glance to Mikey but he just staring at the two guys in front of him.

“Umm,” Bill said into the microphone. “I didn’t know Gerard and Lindsey extremely well, but from the few conversations we had I know that they were amazing people. So when Pete and Gabe called me up and asked me to do this I couldn’t say no.”

Bandit tugged at my sleeve. “Are they gonna sing?” she whispered.

“I think so,” I nodded. Of course they were going to sing.

“We know this is a dark song, but it’s a dark occasion. Hopefully we’ll sing happier tunes in their memory in the future.”

“I hope this isn’t too insensitive, but we couldn’t think of a better way to give our condolences,” Gabe added and it probably was the first non-insensitive sentence I had ever heard him say in his entire life. Well, maybe the second. “This is for Ray, Frank and, of course, Mikey. We’re truly sorry, Mikey Way.”

When they played the first few chords and William started singing I heard Mikey suck in a sharp breath to my left. I looked over and he had his hand pressed to his mouth.

Gabe joined Bill on “ _So many bright lights…”_ and I had tears in my eyes. By the chorus the entire front row was crying. The entire front row except for Mikey. His eyes were wet, I could see as much, but he wasn’t letting them fall. Not until “ _Awake and unafraid_ ”, at which he hastily wiped at his eyes. I reached for his hand, that was balled into a fist on his thigh, with my left and after a second he relaxed it and turned it around so I could thread our fingers together. I could see the marks his nails had left in his palm.

 

Later, after the burial, lots of people came over to where we were standing to give their condolences. I stood a bit to the side at first because I wasn’t the one who had lost someone, but Donna dragged me back soon enough. “Stay with Mikey,” she told me and I couldn’t deny her that.

So I stood next to Mikey and watched as the kids chased each other over the graveyard. None of us had the heart to tell them to stop.

I had noticed that Mikey had been sort of avoiding his band members ever since the call from the hospital. Even having sat so close to them during the funeral he had tried not to look at them and not said a word. So when Frank approached us and Mikey started walking the other way I grabbed his arm.

“Stop running away from your friends.”

“I can’t face them,” he hissed. “I don’t–“

“You’re scared,” I said, just when Frank reached us. “And that’s okay. Just let go.”

They just looked at each other for a moment, then stepped forward at the same time and hugged. It should’ve looked ridiculous, tiny Frank against Mikey’s long limbs, but this time it was just relieving for me. It hurt, it did, but I was also relieved. Because it was a step in the right direction.

“I’m sorry,” Frank said and that’s when Mikey finally gave up his defenses. He just started sobbing, clinging to Frank.

“I miss him so much, Frank.”

“I know, Mikes. I know.”

It was hard to know that Mikey couldn’t do this with me, but I understood. Frank had been there for longer than I had been and they needed to share their pain.

“They’ll be okay, eventually,” said a voice next to me and I turned to see Ray.

“I really hope so,” I said and then watched as he stepped towards his friends and they opened their arms to include him in their embrace, just like that.

 

When we were lying in bed that night, the kids fast asleep on the mattress on the floor, Mikey took my hand in the dark.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be,” I said. “You three needed each other more than you need me.” I said it like it was the truth, but I wasn’t mad about it.

“No,” he said. “No, Pete, I need you all equally. But you have been there the whole time and I couldn’t get to them and I was so scared that they would… hate me or don’t understand. But of course they did and I was stupid and…”

He was rambling, which was never a good thing when he was upset.

“Hey,” I murmured, pulling him closer. “I get it. And you’re not stupid, Mikey. You’re lost and scared and in so much pain, but you’re not stupid.”

“I keep thinking that this is just a bad dream,” he said, putting his head on my chest. “That I’ll wake up eventually and they’ll still be there and Bandit will grow up with parents.”

“Is that why you don’t sleep?” I asked.

He sighed. “No, that’s because I’m afraid of the other nightmares. I know they’re there when I close my eyes. I can feel them creeping up on me. And I don’t know what’s worse, reality or dream.”

“Day or night,” I added.

“It’s all a horrible, terrifying nightmare.”

“I’m sorry I can’t do anything about it,” I said. Because I couldn’t bring Gerard back to life and I couldn’t keep the dreams away, no matter how hard I tried.

I put my arms around him and breathed evenly, but I knew he didn’t want to sleep. I was exhausted, but knowing he wasn’t going to sleep kept me awake, too.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay again,” he said after a while.

“I’ll keep you either way,” I responded. Above all, right now, I had to make sure that he knew how much he meant to me. “I love you, Mikey Way. Never forget that.”

“I won’t.”

And I didn’t care that he didn’t say it back, because he had said it before. He just couldn’t right now. I knew the feeling and I just had to hope that I would fade over time. Right now, just us being together was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost three years ago I said that I was never going to write another funeral again. I was obviously lying.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how I said I'd update on Wednesdays but for Americans it's always still Tuesday. Well, I'm really impatient and on time for this fic. So far.
> 
> For some reason I forgot to mention it last week but I'd like to thank [Sammy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammylostshoe) for giving me input on the children scenes. Only one of us is working with kids and it's not me. She's the kidwhisperer of this fic. XD

I had been sure that I was never going to be able to admit this out loud again, but I really loved Ashlee. But when she stayed over two nights in a row to be able to spend time with Bronx, I told her so and she just smiled. She could have insisted on taking Bronx home with her but she didn’t and I really loved her for that. Instead she agreed that it was best to just let him stay until everything got more settled and she would just come over and maybe in a while she would take both the kids for a weekend. She was an angel.

But most of our friends were being angels right now. It didn’t bother me but I knew that they were walking on eggshells around us, trying to make everything as easy as possible, while simultaneously acting like nothing had changed in front if the children. It was exhausting.

We had tried transforming the guest room into Bandit’s room but she had snuck out during the night a few times to sleep in Bronx’ room so we had put her bed in there. Bronx hadn’t protested and I was pretty sure that both of them were okay with it. Bandit could have her own room when she was older.

I had made a few more trips to the Ways’ house together with Patrick to get more of Bandit’s things but Mikey hadn’t been there yet. His parents were going to come to LA in a few days to look at it and see if there was anything they’d like to have. The general consensus was that we would be keeping the house because it was technically Mikey’s now and he had just said that he “couldn’t sell it”. Other than that there had been no discussions on the matter and I was hesitant to approach it because since the funeral Mikey had been more withdrawn than ever.

Obviously I hadn’t expected him to be his old self again. He had told me himself that he wasn’t okay. And he really wasn’t. I got that he couldn’t be the old Mikey anymore because that was what death did. It changed you.

I had looked up the stages of grief once years ago and if you wanted to go by those, Mikey probably was in depression right now, having skipped denial and anger. But I didn’t believe in that. Death makes sense, in a natural and in a morbid way, but grief, grief takes a long time to reach a point where you can make sense of it.

Mikey was grieving in his own way and I intended to give him all the time he needed.

 

We were sitting on the sofa with the kids, watching the animated _Green Lantern_ series, when I heard someone at the door. I was pretty sure it was Patrick because he had said he was coming over for dinner tonight, which meant he was bringing Chinese takeout for all of us.

And sure enough he was walking into the living room a minute later, holding up two big plastic bags. “Doesn’t anyone want to greet me and help me with the food?”

“Uncle Patrick!” Bandit and Bronx yelled at the same time and jumped up to run up to him and get their obligatory hugs, Kilowog forgotten.

“This isn’t really helping,” Patrick grumbled when both of them were now clinging to him but I could basically hear the grin.

“Did I hear the voice of my favorite ginger?” Ash asked, coming in from the kitchen. “Hey Patrick!” She plucked Bandit from his side. “Kids, leave him alone so he doesn’t drop the food.”

“Food!” Bronx exclaimed and Ashlee and Patrick laughed. “Is there chicken?”

“Yes, food, and you won’t find out until you help carry it into the kitchen and get plates.”

And with that Bronx took the bags from Patrick to proudly carry them into the kitchen, Ashlee following him with Bandit while Patrick came over to Mikey and me since we were still sitting on the couch.

“Hi Trick,” I said.

“’lo,” Mikey mumbled.

“Hello to you, too,” he responded, rolling his eyes and sitting down next to me. “What’s this?” He nodded at the TV.

“Green Lanterns,” Mikey said.

“They made this cool CGI series and we thought we’d get the DVDs and check it out. It’s pretty cool,” I supplied helpfully. In contrast to my words I reached for the remote and paused the episode because the kids wouldn’t want to miss anything while they were busy with the food. Then I turned to look at Patrick because I knew he had something to say.

“Look, can we talk? Like… not necessarily right now. After dinner or when the kids are asleep or whenever, but I mean…,” he said, fumbling for words a bit.

“We have an album and a tour coming up, I know,” I nodded. “We’ll talk.”

 

Ash made us eat dinner at the table instead of in front of the TV because “sometimes the dog has better manners than the lot of you.” Afterwards she supplied the children with crayons and paper in their room and then took the leash and whistled for Bear.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” she told us. “You boys talk.”

I would’ve told her I loved her, but a second time might push it.

When the door closer behind her there was silence for a minute. Then Mikey said he needed a shower and headed upstairs. I watched him leave and then let myself fall back onto the couch.

“It’s so hard to watch him hurt like that, Trick,” I said.

“I know.”

I rubbed my temples then I sighed.

“So,” I said.

“Do you want to cancel the tour?” Patrick asked. I stared at him in surprise.

“What? No!” I shook my head. No. God, that would create more problems than it solved. “No, I just… I don’t know if I can do it. Like, I’m not sure if I can leave Mikey alone with the kids for too long. Ash can’t be here all the time and I mean, I can’t get _him_ a babysitter.” I knew the joke fell flat but I was only half kidding, anyway.

“He’s a grown man, Pete.”

“I know that. But I want to be there for him, you know?”

“So, what are we gonna do?” he sighed and pushed his glasses further up his nose.

“We release the album, obviously,” I said. “And it’d be an asshole move to not do the shows in Australia and New Zealand and Japan, but I think you’ll have to get someone else for the summer.”

“Pete,” Patrick looked at me with an unhappy expression but he had to understand me. He was my Patrick, for god’s sake.

“I know it’s still two months until then, but look at him. He functions on the basic levels but he only keeps it up because of Bandit. How long until that stops, too?” I felt desperation bubble up in me. This worry had been tormenting me for a while now. “It’s fucking stupid to let it affect our band, too, I know, but I need to help him.”

“I get it,” he said.

I just looked at him for a while. “I could do some of the shows. And we can get a bunch of cool people to step in for me,” I then suggested. “So the kids don’t feel cheated. Sisky would probably piss himself. Gabe can be lured anywhere with the right promises…” I shrugged.

“I’ll give them a call,” he said, sighing. “Just to warn them. But we have time, right?”

“Time’s all we have until it’s gone,” I answered.

“Just… take care of yourself, too, will you?”

I smiled sadly. “I know I don’t have the best track record but I have two little humans and a Way to look out for. I think I’m good.”

“You’re not ‘good’.”

“No, but I’m swimming and pushing the raft and I’ll just have to keep going until we find land,” I said. The metaphor was at least three kinds of fucked up but I didn’t care. I’d keep everyone else from drowning.

“More like you’re the raft,” Patrick frowned.

I was about to complain about how he needed to trust me a little but there were footsteps on the stairs and a minute later Bandit and Bronx burst into the living room. Bronx crawled over the back of the couch and tumbled into my lap.

“Daddy! I drew you something!”

“Really? Let me see!” He shoved a piece of paper at me. Patrick and I carefully studied it. “Are those Green Lanterns?”

“Yeah, that’s you and Mikey and Bandit and me as Green Lanterns!”

“That’s awesome!” Patrick said.

I grinned. “You have to show it to Mikey when he finishes his shower.”

“No, that’s just for you,” he protested. “I drew another one for Mikey.”

“Can I see?”

“No!” he shook his head vehemently. “It’s for Mikey.”

I laughed. “Alright then.” Bandit was carefully coming up to the sofa now, too, bouncing on her feet. “What’d you draw?” She handed me her drawing and Bronx migrated to Patrick’s lap.

She had also drawn Green Lanterns. And a red thing.

“That’s Razer,” she said, pointing at the red blob. “And that’s you and Mikey. And that’s me and Mama and Daddy. I’m gonna give it to them when they get back.”

I suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Sometimes I wished that Bandit would just _understand_. Of course, it was selfish and cruel, but it was so hard to see her hopeful little face. Every day she thought her parents would just walk through the door and take her home with them. And we were left with the knowledge that it would never happen and that she would only slowly grow to understand that.

“They’re not coming back,” a voice said and I looked around to see Mikey stand in the doorway, hair wet from the shower.

“Why not?” She pouted at him defiantly.

“Because they’re dead, that’s why.”

“Mikey,” I said tentatively but he just turned around and went back upstairs.

Patrick glared at the spot where Mikey had just stood. “Now _that_ was… just wrong.”

It was silent for a moment, then Bandit tugged at my sleeve. “Uncle Pete? Are they really not coming back?”

I turned towards her. “I don’t think so, sweetie.”

“But why not?” Her lip was trembling and I really just wanted to get up and strangle Mikey for what he had just done. He was messed up, I understood that, but he didn’t have to mess her up, too.

“They can’t,” I told her with a desperate look to Patrick. “But they would if they could, you know that, right?” She sniffled but nodded. I opened my arms and she crawled into my lap. I hugged her tightly. “Promise me you’ll never forget that?”

She might forget what her parents looked like. She might forget what their voices sounded like and when their birthdays were. But I would make sure she never forgot that they loved her.

There were a few tears but thankfully Bandit didn’t break out into full on sobbing, so I thought we were fine. We sat like that for a moment until Bronx asked if they could watch another episode of _GLTAS_.

“Sure, buddy,” I said, switching the TV back on. “Watch them for me?” I asked Patrick and he nodded. So I got up and headed upstairs. Luckily Mikey was neither a dog nor a toddler so he would still know what he had done wrong.

I didn’t bother knocking at the door to our room but just waltzed right in. Mikey was sitting cross legged on the bed in a pair of boxers and one of my shirts, looking at me defiantly.

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?” I opened with. Yes, he needed time to grieve. But not like this. “That was so fucked up, Mikey. She’s a little _kid_.”

“Yeah and she thinks they’re going to come back any minute and resume their happy family life,” he snapped back.

“Wait, are you blaming her? Because then you’re not just an asshole, you’re also fucking stupid.” I jabbed my finger into his chest.

“No, I… of course I’m not blaming her,” he mumbled, deflating and I suddenly realized that despite being angry at him I had liked seeing him displaying emotion again just now. “I just… she doesn’t get it, you know? And I just don’t want her to have this false hope and grow into a sad teenager because she thinks her parents left her.”

I sighed and sat down next to him, bumping our shoulders together. “She’s going to understand, believe me. Besides, we’re gonna make sure she never ever thinks that, okay? But seriously, you can’t just throw it at her like that. I know it hurts but you both deal with it differently.”

“I just don’t understand why I have to deal with it at all,” he said and leaned against me. “I miss them so much, Pete.”

“I know, Mikey Way.”

The thought that Mikey might just give up, step back and not care anymore had honestly never occurred to me. But right now, when it had no reason to, it did. And it scared me a whole fucking lot.

“Now, will you come downstairs again? Bronx drew you a picture,” I said, doing my best puppy impression. Which wasn’t all that good.

“I guess I have no choice then.”

“No, you really don’t.”

We got up and I shoved some sweatpants at him. There was really no reason to run around half naked in front of the kids right now. He rolled his eyes at me but put the pants on. When we got downstairs, Ashlee was back and sitting on the couch with Patrick and the children, watching Saint Walker run over the screen. We sat down next to them and I was grateful for having bought the biggest couch I could find. For a moment I had a false feeling of normality and I thought it was great.

After the episode Ash said that she really couldn’t stay over any longer and needed to take care of some things at home so she hugged us all goodbye. Patrick left not long after.

By then, Bronx had remembered the picture he had drawn. “That’s for you!” he said he said, grabbing the piece of paper that was lying upside down on the coffee table and put it in Mikey’s hand.

“Thanks,” Mikey said, then he looked down at the picture and his face fell a bit. “Oh.” I leaned over to get a better view. There were four people on the picture, one being significantly smaller than the others. But all of them had bright red hair.

“That’s you and Frank and Ray,” Bronx listed. “And that’s me singing for you. And we all have red hair.”

“Thank you,” Mikey whispered and it sounded so terribly genuine that it overwhelmed me for a second.

“You’re sad and I saw a picture of Uncle Gee with red hair,” Bronx continued. “And then I drew this so you won’t be sad anymore.”

“I love it.”

Bronx beamed and hugged Mikey and Mikey hugged him back. I smiled sadly, then clapped my hands. “Okay, bedtime for everyone under the age of five.” Bandit and Bronx groaned because by now they understood that I only meant them with that.

“Only if you read us a story,” Bandit demanded.

“Deal. Now go brush your teeth,” I said and they ran off. I turned to Mikey. “Are you okay?”

“I… yeah, I guess,” he nodded. “He just took me off guard.”

“He’s pretty perceptive,” I shrugged.

“Those two are gonna be a lot of trouble when they grow up.”

Upstairs I could hear Bandit and Bronx arguing over the toothpaste. “When they grow up?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. “They’re already enough trouble to give me grey hair.”

“You don’t have grey hair yet, you liar.”

“I could be dyeing it and you wouldn’t know the difference,” I grinned.

“I would totally know,” he said, getting up. “I’ve–“ He interrupted himself and just shook his head. “Let’s go upstairs before they cover the whole sink in toothpaste again.”

We went upstairs, averted a toothpaste disaster, brushed Bandit’s teeth, made sure that Bronx did the same, got the kids dressed for bed and tucked them in.

“Story! You promised!” Bandit demanded and I rolled my eyes.

“Okay, which one do you want?”

“Tell us one of yours,” Bronx said.

“Hmm, okay… A long time ago in a hot hot summer I met Uncle Mikey for the first time,” I grinned at him and then looked back at the children’s expectant faces. “It was in a city that consisted only of busses and I had started a Super Soaker battle with Uncle Joe because he smelled bad. But Uncle Mikey was a bit of an airhead and walked right into one of my shots and I got his shirt all wet…”

I looked over to smile at Mikey and he smiled back.

“So? What did you do?” Bandit asked.

“Well, I tried to get him to take his shirt off,” I said and was interrupted by Mikey’s fake-warning, laughed “Pete!” but chose to ignore it, “because it was hot and his T-Shirt was wet now, but he didn’t want to. So I started chasing him through the bus city.”

Mikey was really laughing now and I just tried to enjoy it. It was nice to see him like this, just enjoying the moment with Bandit and Bronx. But I knew that it was only a momentary distraction, that he’d slip back into his nightmare in a while and that it would be continuously harder to get him out of it again. I would just have to savor this moment. At least he was happy now, even if he would be sad again later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually don't know when Pete and Mikey met for the first time but I'm pretty sure it was before Warped '05. Oh well, Pete just likes telling stories, it's alright.


	5. Chapter 5

Wonders did happen. I’d had my fair share of them. The band, Bronx, me somehow growing into a relatively sane adult. But miracles and wonders were a completely different thing. Miracles didn’t happen. So Mikey didn’t miraculously get better and Gerard and Lindsey didn’t miraculously rise from the dead. But we kept fighting.

Fighting meant getting up in the middle of the night because Mikey woke up screaming from a nightmare. Fighting meant trying to get Bandit into the car because we wanted to go grocery shopping. Fighting meant going back to the hospital for checkups on Bandit’s arm without Mikey bailing on us.

This was the fourth night in a row where Mikey had fallen asleep out of sheer exhaustion and woken up two hours later in a panic.

“I’m here,” I told him, holding his face with both hands. “Breathe, Mikey.” He was hyperventilating and looking at me with wide eyes. “You’re safe, baby, you’re safe.” Which he was. He was as safe as he would get in this house. Just not safe from the ghost of his brother.

“I fucking hate this,” he said after a while, when his breathing had finally slowed down to a normal rate, but I could still see the tears in his eyes.

“What was it this time?” I asked, getting out of bed with him. He usually had to walk around the house for a bit to make sure everything was still like it had been when he went to sleep. Even if it was wrong, so wrong.

He walked down the stairs before me. “The Paramour,” he mumbled. “Again. Only this time Gee got drowned in a fucking bathtub.”

Mikey had three kinds of bad dreams. The ones where his mind recreated the crash he hadn’t been  there to witness, the ones where he saw Gerard dying in the hospital over and over again and the dreams from his time at the Paramour. Only the Paramour nightmares had been there before. And now they were even worse.

We switched on most of the lights on our way to the kitchen where I filled a glass with water and handed it to Mikey. I bit my lip and waited while he gulped it down. “You know, maybe you should consider those therapy sessions,” I finally said, tentatively.

He shook his head and put the glass aside. “I don’t think I can talk about it yet. Like, I know I should, obviously, but it’s really hard. And I’m worried I’ll lose it completely if I have to start really thinking about it. I can’t afford that…”

I wanted to say that he already was constantly thinking about it but I knew what he meant. And I didn’t want to push him. It wouldn’t do him any good if I dragged him to a psychiatrist, got him drugged up and made him go to a few therapy sessions.

“Okay,” I said, shrugging. “Just… you know. It’s an option.”

“Pete,” he started, but was interrupted by audible crying from upstairs.

“Ah, crap,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “Bandit, too.”

The problem with the two kids sleeping in the same room was that when Bandit woke up in the middle of the night and started crying, she woke up Bronx, too. So when we hurried back upstairs he was already sitting on her bed, examining her with a concerned look and trying to hug her but she kept pushing him away.

“Daddy,” she cried. “I want my Daddy.”

“Fuck,” I mumbled but Mikey just walked past me to the bed. I sighed. “Bronx, come here.” He scrambled off the bed and came to hug me around the waist. “Wanna go sleep in my room?” I asked, but he shook his head.

Meanwhile Mikey sat down next to Bandit.

“Hey,” he said soothingly. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Bandit nodded, rubbing at her eyes with her little fists. “Where’s my Daddy?” she asked and I wondered if my heart would ever stop breaking over this. It had to be in a million tiny pieces by now.

“He can’t come, B,” Mikey said. “Come on, tell me about your dream.”

“No,” she shook her head. “I want my Daddy! Daddy!”

“Bandit, please…”

“You’re not my Daddy!” she screamed and Mikey moved back, burying his face in his hands. “Daddy! Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!”

“Shit.” I raked one hand through my hair, keeping the other on Bronx’ back.

These were the worst nights. When Bandit was inconsolable and wouldn’t settle down for hours, no matter how hard we tried. And these hopeless kinds of fights were the most horrible.

I felt Bear sidle past me. He jumped up on the bed and nuzzled close to Bandit. Well, at least she didn’t hit the dog but rather turned to cry into his smooth fur. I sighed and carefully pried Bronx’s arms from my hips, then stepped closer to the bed, putting a hand on Mikey’s shoulder. I was about to say something but he raised his head and slowly moved closer to Bandit again.

“B, I’m sorry. I know I’m not your Dad.” Even if I hadn’t been able to see his face I would have known that he was crying from his voice. “But he can’t be here, okay? He can’t. And I’m here. That’s gotta count for something, right? I miss him, too, baby.”

Bandit was still shaking her head but now she at least let herself fall forward into Mikey’s arms and I sighed in relief. I watched them for a moment, unsure of what to do now. Then Bronx tugged at my sleeve.

“Dad? Can we go back to sleep?”

I hoisted him up in my arms. “Sure thing, buddy. We’ll leave these two alone, alright? Not much room for us in that bed.” Sometimes it was best to let the ones left behind comfort each other.

He nodded and I carried him to the master bedroom. Bandit and Mikey would be ok on their own. For now.

So I cuddled up with Bronx in our bed.

“I love you, you know that, right?” I told him.

“Love you too,” he mumbled. I was kind of surprised that he didn’t ask any more questions about Bandit, but either he was just too tired or needed time to process his thoughts. But I didn’t doubt that he’d be fine. I kissed the top of his head and then closed my eyes.

I just hoped that Bandit and Mikey would find some sleep, too.

 

 

Our morning started remotely slow and Ash dropped by around noon to take the kids and the dog to the playground. Mikey was curled up on the couch with his third cup of coffee but he waved at her and Bandit and Bronx both hugged him before they left.

“Maybe we should put them in the same preschool or kindergarten or whatever,” I said, sitting down next to Mikey and putting my bass on my lap because I hadn’t played in a while and needed a run-through before I played the shows in a few days.

“Good idea,” Mikey responded, shifting slightly so that he was leaning against my side without interfering with my grip on the bass. “They should meet other kids more often.”

I nodded, strumming a few chords. “Exactly.”

We sat there for a while without talking, me playing a few songs on the bass, he occasionally taking gulps from his coffee until it was empty. He put the mug on the table.

“Do you want to play something?” I asked, motioning at the bass.

He shook his head. “No.”

I frowned but decided not to say anything. So I just shrugged and put the bass down. “Okay.”

We both loved music a lot but he hadn’t touched an instrument in weeks and even listening to anything had been rare. He was hiding in silence. Probably because music had everything to do with it.

We hadn’t talked much about the future. Everything was day to day right now.

There had been no talk about MCR. At all. They hadn’t done any interviews or press releases of any kind since the statement about the accident and subsequent death of their lead singer. There had been a few requests from magazines for interviews but those had been declined by their manager and most people respected that the remaining three members of the band, that had now ceased to exist, needed time to grieve before there was going to be any contact with the media. Right now I couldn’t imagine Mikey giving another Interview ever again, but the future was blurry.

Mikey had been keeping away from the Internet but I knew that a million people were grieving with him. Maybe not to his extent, maybe not as violently and heart wrenchingly hurting. But there were other people sharing his pain. And sometimes I just wanted to tell him that but I wasn’t sure if it would make him feel better or worse. Because then he would be reminded that the people out there existed, that there had been a band. But My Chemical Romance was dead now. Quite literally.

Gerard had been the driving force behind My Chem. The sun, the core. There was no way Mikey would continue the band without his brother and I was sure Frank and Ray wouldn’t, either. I knew the band was over. Everyone did. But they were not ready to admit the finality of it to the world yet.

Mikey talked to Ray and Frank occasionally but I knew that they were checking more on him than he was talking to them. And it was all friends talking to friends, no band business. They would have to talk about everything eventually, but forcing the work on them when they were still grieving so badly would only end badly.

I knew that MSI had released their new album but cancelled the tour. I was also pretty sure that they wouldn’t disband. They were strong, they could keep going. After a break to let things settle and after finding a new bassist. That was how it worked.

I sighed and switched the TV on. The early afternoon program wasn’t exactly the most educated thing ever but it was entertaining enough not to die of boredom and flat enough to give you the right background noise for a nap.

And sure enough after about twenty minutes Mikey dozed off, now with his head on my lap. Normally he wouldn’t have been able to do that after so much caffeine but I had always said that he would become immune to it one day. I smiled sadly and carefully carded his hair from his forehead. He hadn’t shaved in at least a week and I would’ve asked him if he was trying to go for a full-on hobo beard but that probably would’ve been inappropriate. Maybe I should have called Gabe and told him to ask him. It was ok when Gabe did stuff like that.

I shook my head over my fucked up thoughts and closed my eyes. Maybe there was some rest here for me, too.

 

“Daddy.” Small hands were petting my face and I made a sleepy noise. God, just five more minutes, Bronx.

“Baby, let your Daddy sleep,” a voice said and the hands vanished.

Man, I was really fucking glad for Ash. I turned around to sleep a little longer and promptly fell off the couch. A moment later there was dog slobber all over my cheek.

“Dammit, Bear,” I mumbled, opening my eyes and sitting up.

“Yay, you’re up!” Bronx smiled and plastered himself to my side. “Mom’s making dinner.”

“What time is it?” I asked, rubbing my back. Then I saw that Mikey was still sleeping and I motioned at Bronx to keep his voice down.

“It’s 6,” Ash whispered from where she was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, Bandit balanced on her hip. I got up, my back still hurting like a bitch, and walked over to her, Bronx following me eagerly. I gave Ash a peck on the cheek and ruffled Bandit’s hair. “I saw that you two were sound asleep so I got the legos out for the kids in their room but they got hungry,” Ash said, shrugging apologetically.

“It’s okay,” I said, following her into the kitchen. “As long as Mikey can sleep a little longer.” It was quite surprising that he had lasted until now without waking up from another nightmare. He needed every minute he could get. “What’s for dinner?”

“Burritos,” Bandit informed me, having been put down on the table and supervising Ash working.

“Awesome,” I said. “Bronx, wanna help me set the table?”

When we were all done and ready to eat, Ash eyed me with a questioning look. “Shouldn’t we wake Mikey?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Let the boy sleep,” I told her. “I’ll make him eat something later. Sleep is priority right now.”

She sighed but nodded, sitting down next to me. “He looks unhappy and exhausted.”

“Even in his sleep,” I added with a bitter smile. “He’s still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know, you used to say that about me, too.”

“Well, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” I compromised. She just shoved a plate at me.

Mikey stumbled into the kitchen around twenty minutes later and Bandit put a Burrito on a plate for him. He didn’t look like he wanted to eat but Ashlee’s and my combined stares finally made him force it down. I knew how it felt to not want to do anything but he really needed to keep it together.

But well, he hadn’t given up yet and I wasn’t going to let him.

 

 

Way back in the beginning I had loved leaving for tours. No matter how miserable I got on the road there was always something to distract myself with or friends to vent to if I felt like it. Which I rarely did. Updating my blog had always been a better choice, for some reason. Ah, the joys of cryptic words. Obviously that had changed when Bronx had been born. I had hated leaving him and Ash alone at home, had constantly been scared that he would forget me. Thankfully, he never had.

But going away had never been as hard as it was today. I stood at the door with my bags and two children clinging to me and felt like I was making a horrible mistake.

Bronx and Bandit had helped me pack, which had mostly consisted of them bringing me stuff I would most likely not need on the other side of the world. Some of it had still actually ended up in my luggage, such as one of Bronx’ shirts, a scrunchie courtesy of Bandit and an unlabeled CD that one of them had found around the house. We had no idea what was on it but I had promised them to find out if I found a CD player and an opportunity on my travels.

The rest had mostly consisted of me shoving clothes into my bags, Bear stealing socks and underwear and the children chasing him to get them back. Mikey had just watched with an amused look but had mostly kept quiet.

And now I really didn’t want to leave. God, I loved making music with my guys, I loved Fall Out Boy a whole fucking lot, I loved being on stage. But nothing compared to loving Mikey. And he needed me right now. But I had responsibilities.

“I’ll be back in two weeks,” I promised the kids, hugging both of them close, because I didn’t want to let them go either. “Be nice to Uncle Mikey, okay?”

“Of course,” Bandit nodded eagerly but then she pouted. “But I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go either,” I sighed. “But Uncle Patrick would be mad at me if I stayed home now. I’ll send you lots of pictures. And next time you can come with me.”

“Really?” Bronx asked, his whole face lighting up. Well, I had set myself up for this one. He would never let me get out of it.

“I’ll take you to England,” I said. “Promise.”

“Awesome,” Bandit said and I couldn’t make myself regret the words that had just slipped out of my mouth.

Mikey looked at me questioningly but anything that made them happy was good in my book. Taking them to the UK wasn’t too farfetched. We had made bigger things happen. We could take them to Reading & Leeds and scar them forever.

“I’ll see you in two weeks,” I said again but it took another minute for them to release me so I could step around them and kiss Mikey. I rested my forehead against his for a moment and looked him in the eyes.

“Have a good flight,” he said and I could basically hear the unspoken ‘And don’t crash.’ “Call me when you get there.”

“That’ll take a while,” I sighed, “but you’ll hear from me as soon as I get the chance.”

“Good,” he nodded.

“I love you,” I told him earnestly. “And don’t forget about me.”

“I would never,” he said and a strained smile appeared on his face. “I love you, too.”

And the relief of knowing that he could at least admit that again, that he would maybe find comfort in knowing that I was there for him no matter how far away I was made me feel a whole lot better. He was an adult; he knew that I wasn’t just abandoning him. But I was still scared that he’d freak out the second I was gone.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” And with that I was walking out of the door and to the waiting taxi that was going to take me to the airport. Walking away had always been easy for me, except on a few instances, but today it was the hardest thing in the world.

I just kept telling myself that it was just two weeks. That I would be back.

 


	6. Chapter 6

My plan had been to play the shows and lose myself in the music. But every time I started forgetting what was going on outside in the real world, every time I let the beat overtake me something set me off again - a face in the audience, one of my words that poured out of Patrick’s mouth. So I just focused on playing the right chords and not looking too stupid.

But eventually I knew that keeping my head down and being quiet just wasn’t my thing on stage, so I shot Patrick a look before _Disloyal Order_ and he just nodded. Thank god for easy communication.

“So, I’m pretty sure a lot of you know My Chemical Romance,” I said into my mic and heard a confused cheer ripple through the audience. Yeah, I wouldn’t know how I’d react, either. They were here to have fun, not be reminded of horrible things. “And by extension a lot of you probably also know about Gerard and Lindsey Way passing away a few weeks ago.” I tightened my grip around the microphone and closed my eyes for a second. “This song is for Mikey and Bandit and everybody else who’s trying to stay strong right now.”

I stepped back and we launched into the song. They still sang along but it was different this time. More solemn. The impact on me was massive. I had to wipe my cheeks once or twice but never lost my place in the song. Because I knew exactly where I belonged.

Mikey and I hadn’t exactly made our relationship public but we didn’t deny any rumors, either. Why should it matter? Sure, sometimes I had had to keep myself from talking about him in Interviews and we had toyed with the idea of just coming out and telling the world, but now that discussion seemed centuries away. I would support him and the media could fuck off.

“Thank you,” I said, once we were done and my voice actually broke. There were a few heartbroken ‘Awww’s from the audience. Jesus, I was so fucking stupid. Still, this had probably been the right thing to do.

 

After the show, back in the hotel, I typed up a tweet.

_Sorry, my head wasn’t entirely in the game today. I owe you better._

And then a second one.

_We recently took a huge blow and on top of that took Bandit in. I wouldn’t trade her for the world but it’s been tough._

Mikey wasn’t ready to talk about his brother’s death yet and I accepted that. But I was. And I thought I needed it a whole damn lot.

Tiredly I opened Skype to check if either Ash or Mikey were online but of course neither were. I tried to remember which time it was back at home but all I could come up with was that it had to be yesterday for them. Timezones were a bitch. I sighed, closed my Laptop and sent a text to Mikey instead. _Hope the kids are behaving and you’re doing fine. Love you._

I felt horrible. There were a million miles between us and all I wanted was to be home.

 

Before we flew to Melbourne the next morning I was able to talk to Ash on Skype for a moment.

“Mikey’s asleep right now,” she said. “I came over to watch the kids and he just fell onto the couch.”

“He has nightmares,” I said. “I guess sleeping during the day is just easier for him.”

“He’s not doing well, Pete,” she sighed.

“I know. But he’s trying. Just look after him for me, okay?”

She rubbed her face but nodded. “I can’t be here all the time. You know that.”

“Yeah,” I said, sneaking a glance at the clock. We’d have to leave in ten minutes. “Just, you know, check in with him from time to time.”

“Of course,” she said, then she looked contemplative for a moment. “Do you think I could take the kids for a night on the day you come back?”

“Have you asked them?” Because if the children were okay with it, I was, too.

“Not yet,” she smiled. “But I asked Mikey and he said it’d be fine if the kids said yes.” Of course.

“Can I talk to them?” I asked. She was sitting in the shade of the patio at the back of the house and I could tell that she was watching Bandit and Bronx play with Bear from the way she kept lifting her head to look over the camera.

“Sure... Hey, guys, Daddy wants to talk to you!”

I wanted to remind her that I wasn’t Bandit’s father, no matter how hard I tried. But I didn’t get the chance because there was excited yelling and then the kids appeared next to her. Ash lifted both of them onto her lap so they could see better.

“Hi,” they grinned in unison, the vowel unbelievably long and Bandit reached out to touch the screen.

“Hey,” I smiled, waving at them. “How are you guys?”

“Good!” Bronx yelled and Bandit nodded excitedly.

“Aunt Ash says she’s gonna teach us how to swim!”

“That’s a good idea,” I said.

“Not today though,” Ashlee added. “We’re gonna do that when Uncle Pete comes back so he can teach you, too, okay?”

Bandit looked at her with a frown but nodded. “Okay,” she said.

There was a knock on my door. “Pete, get your ass out here, we gotta go.” Unmistakably Joe. I sighed and looked back at the screen.

“I gotta go,” I said apologetically. “I’ll check in with you again tomorrow, okay?” Not much longer, I told myself. One show down, two to go. “I love you! Tell Mikey I said Hi!”

I barely caught Bronx loud “Have fun!” before I had to end the call. I didn’t think I had ever been more homesick than in this moment.

With a sigh I closed my Laptop, shoved it in its bag and grabbed my stuff. Against popular believe our plane probably wouldn’t wait for us if we were late.

 

“You caused a riot on Twitter,” Patrick told me on the way to the airport.

“Yeah, I was expecting that,” I said tiredly, letting my head fall onto his shoulder. He distractedly started combing through my hair with his left hand while his right continued tapping on his phone. “Isn’t that expensive?” I asked.

He replied with a low chuckle. Thank god for Patrick.

 

The shows in Melbourne and Auckland were better than the one in Sydney and I thought that maybe, maybe things were looking up. Maybe I was doing better.

 

 

I hadn’t expected Mikey to be at the airport when I came back because he rarely left the house on his own anymore and Ash had taken the kids to her place this morning. So I made my own way home. I was dead on my feet after 12 hours on a plane but glad to be back.

When I got to the house, the first thing I noticed that none of the lights were on. At least none in the rooms that went out to the driveway which was weird, because both the master bedroom and the living room did and those were the two rooms Mikey spent most of his time in. And even if he was in the kitchen or anywhere else he usually forgot turning the lights off anywhere. He wasn’t too fond of the dark anymore.

But oh well, maybe he had just decided to take a nap or go to sleep early.

So when I got through the front door I wasn’t too surprised to only find Bear greeting me. What I wasn’t expecting was that he immediately started whining and nudging at my legs.

“Hey buddy,” I said, putting down my bags and crouching down. “What’s wrong?”

He yelped and scurried down the hall towards the kitchen. I frowned and got up to follow him. As I got nearer I saw that there was a light on in the kitchen. So Mikey was still awake…

“Dude, what the fuck did you do to our dog? Poor guy is a–,” I cut myself off when I reached the doorway. Bear had stopped right outside the kitchen door, his tail between his legs and still whining. And I just stood there, shocked, taking the sight in.

Mikey was sitting on the floor leaning against the counter, an almost empty vodka bottle next to him. He had his iPod in his lap and his headphones in and was laughing manically about something, or so it seemed. When he lifted his head a bit I could see the fresh tears on his cheeks. That was what pulled me out of my stupor. I was next to him with two steps, ripping the iPod from his grip.

“What the fuck, Mikey?” I demanded.

He looked up, noticing me just now. “Oh, hi,” he said, taking a swig from the bottle. I stared at him in disbelief for a second and then took that from him, too.

“What are you _doing_?”

“Uh, drinking, I think?” he countered and I was getting angrier with the second even if I tried pushing it down.

“Yeah, I can see that. Are you out of your mind?” I yelled, waving the bottle around in front of his face.

“Yes,” he said, all serious.

“Fuck you.”

He looked a bit frozen for a second, then he held up a hand, making a grab for the iPod. “I was listening to that!”

“And now you’re not anymore,” I said, switching the iPod off and stuffing it in my pocket.

“Gimme back the fucking music!” he slurred.

“No.” Like hell I was gonna give him anything right now. I was fucking furious and I wanted an explanation. This was so far from okay that I didn’t even have any words for it. And usually I was pretty good with those.

“Asshole.”

“Excuse me?” I stepped even closer, towering over him. “No, Mikey, you’re the asshole! Do you know how I feel right now? I come back home and you’re sitting in the fucking kitchen, drunk like it’s fucking 2006.”

“’S not 2006 anymore,” he said, struggling to get to his feet but failing. I automatically reached out to steady him and keep him from cracking his head open on the sharp edge of the counter. “But I’d take 2006 over today anytime.”

My eyes wandered to the counter just to see several little plastic bottles lying there that had been full of pills when I had left. Both mine and his prescriptions. I had forgotten mine at home when I left but I was usually fine without them now. “Fuck, Mikey,” I breathed. “Did you take all of those?”

“Yeah,” he said, a defiant gleam in his eyes.

Fuck. This was so fucking bad.

I discarded the vodka bottle on the counter and started fumbling for my phone. I had no fucking idea what to do but calling an ambulance seemed like a good idea right now even if it would get us into a whole lot of trouble. Better trouble than Mikey dying of a fucking overdose.

But before I could hit the dial button Mikey turned sideways and vomited onto the kitchen floor.

Well, fuck me. I pressed my eyes shut for a moment then I knelt down next to him and put my hands on his shoulders before the next wave came. “Come on, Mikey Way, let’s not do that again.” I helped him up and we just stood there for a moment, then he made a turn for the kitchen sink. It seemed like he was emptying the entire contents of his stomach, which was, as I thought, probably a good thing. I wrinkled my nose, turned on the faucet and held Mikey’s hair back even though he wasn’t really in any danger to get it dirty. But you could never know.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” I told him when he finally started spitting nothing except for bile. “Now come, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“No,” he said, wiping his mouth messily.

“You don’t get to tell me no on this,” I said angrily and tugged at his shoulders. So he let go of the edge of the sink and slumped against me.

It was a bit of a struggle to get him upstairs and into the bathroom but I managed. I had supported enough drunken band members and friends in my life that I at least knew how to hoist them up a flight of stairs. I put Mikey down next to the tub and went to get a washcloth and a towel.

“I can’t believe you,” I told him but despite having vomited up most of the alcohol that wasn’t in his system yet he seemed to be pretty out of it, so the only reaction I got were some incoherent noises. I put the washcloth to Mikey’s face. “This was basically the worst thing you could do.”

He tried to say something that sounded a lot like ‘Nah’ but I couldn’t be sure. It didn’t matter, anyway. He had been an idiot and once I had made sure he was going to be fine we would have to have a serious talk about this.

“Feel like brushing your teeth?” I asked him but it was more of a rhetorical question than anything else. He didn't look like he wanted to move anytime soon and just getting him into bed would be a hard task. So I just hoisted him up again and made him rinse out his mouth. “Let’s get you to bed. But don’t fall asleep on me, okay?”

“Doesn’t make sense,” he told me and I had to actually chuckle at that.

“Oh, an asshole and a smartass, I should’ve known…”

When I had him safely in bed and stripped of his shirt and jeans I got up again, throwing the clothes in the direction of the bathroom. “No, really, don’t sleep. I’m gonna wake you up again anyway.”

“Wha’ever.”

I threw a sock at his head and went downstairs again. After all there was still vomit on the kitchen floor and that was even worse than Bronx’ milk disaster. At least milk dried interestingly and could be scrubbed off without being a pain in the ass. The smell of vomit was already all over the kitchen. I wrinkled my nose and searched for the mop, which took me a moment.

While I cleaned the tiles I thought about what to do next. The most sensible thing to do probably would’ve been to still drive Mikey to the hospital but since there shouldn’t be much left in his stomach I thought that maybe we could sit it out. Then I could yell at him again in the morning and decide further options. This had definitely not been what I had wanted to come home to.

Obviously I had known that Mikey wasn’t okay, that he would probably never fully get over Gerard’s death, but I had never expected him to relapse back into his darkest days – which I had only witnessed from afar. This was out of my league and I couldn’t handle it on my own anymore.

When the kitchen was finally clean I ditched the mop and coaxed Bear out from his hiding place behind the sofa in the living room. Then I went upstairs, Bear hesitantly trailing behind me. Mikey was sitting on the bed, slumped against the headboard with his eyes closed but I could see his eyelashes flutter when I shut the door behind me and dog.

“No sleeping,” I said, sitting down next to him. Bear eyed us warily for a moment then hopped onto the bed too and we shuffled around for a while until I was sitting next to Mikey and Bear was lying at our feet, resting his head on my ankles.

“Why not?” He sounded so sleepy and I just sighed. This would be a long night.

“Because I’m scared you’re gonna die on me,” I told him truthfully.

“That’s bullshit…”

Well, at least he didn’t want to die right now. I couldn’t say for sure what he had been doing earlier, but right now both his body and mind seemed to be in fighting mode. More or less, at least. But I was still scared as hell. I had left Mikey alone and he had resorted to alcohol and pills. And he still hadn’t told me why exactly I had found him in this situation. So I was left blaming myself. Because I could never stay angry at him for this.

“Don’t let us fall asleep,” I told Bear.

Sadly, he didn’t seem to understand me.

 

Having a room that went out to the west side of the house was really fortunate in the mornings because I never had to blink against aggressive morning sunlight. It was still way too bright right now.

I rubbed my eyes for a moment and then I remembered what had happened yesterday and the panic came rushing back. I tried to sit up hastily but there was a weight on my stomach constricting my movements. A quick look confirmed that at some point in the night I had ended up lying on my back and Mikey had curled up on his side with his head on my torso.

For a moment he was lying so still that I thought he wasn’t even breathing and I was starting to freak out but then I heard the quiet snuffling sound he always made when he was asleep and relaxed. Everything was fine.

I still had to wake him up.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” I said, brushing stray hairs from his forehead. “Wake up or I’m gonna throw you out of this bed.”

“Ugh… what?”

“Congrats, you fucked up,” I told him because, well, I was still a bit frustrated from yesterday.

He blinked a few times, then pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at me. Finally realization dawned on him. “Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah,” I said because I really didn’t know what to say apart from that. We both sat up completely and were silent for a moment, just staring at each other and I ran my hand through my hair. “Why?” I finally asked.

“I was alone,” he said after a while of chewing on his lower lip. “Even with the children I was alone at night. So I just… started taking sleeping pills and drinking at night to feel… less. And then more stuff because I still kept waking up.”

“You could have just called me,” I said, choking up already. “I would’ve come home, Mikey, fuck the band, fuck the fans. You need me.”

“But I shouldn’t have to. And you shouldn’t have to take care of me,” he mumbled.

“Shut up,” I said but he just shook his head.

“No, seriously. And I just… Yesterday I started listening to the new Bowie album and… he’s never gonna hear it, Pete. He’s never gonna hear all the new music that’s still out there. He’s gone and I’m still here and I don’t know _why_.”

“Because you don’t have a choice,” I admitted. “And you don’t get to choose death over life, do you hear me? That was some fucked up shit yesterday. What do you think you were doing? Leaving me alone with Bandit to fight over her with your parents? Because I wouldn’t be able to let her go, no matter what.”

“I wasn’t really thinking at all,” he mumbled. “I just wanted it to stop.” And I knew that feeling far too well. I was so familiar with it that I could still feel it, buried far back in my brain. But it still didn’t justify anything.

I sighed. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you really gotta get it together…”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Uhh… I think I have to… leave. For that.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

“What?” I stared at him in shock. He couldn’t be serious. This totally wasn’t happening.

“No, I didn’t…,” he shook his head and gave a tired, frustrated sounding huff. “I just… I don’t think I’m stable. And I don’t want to put you and the kids in this situation and I don’t know if I can get better on my own here. So I guess… I should leave for a while and get help.”

“Oh,” I made, relieved to understand what he meant. “Okay.” Except it wasn’t okay at all. Of course, I wanted him to get better, but letting him leave had never been something  I wanted. I could already feel myself holding on tighter, my hand curling around his wrist.

He sighed. “Pete,” he said but I cut him off.

“No, I get it,” I said. “I really do. I don’t want to let you go but this isn’t about me. You have to do what’s best for you.” I didn’t get to be selfish in this situation. If I wanted to help him, this was how. With a sigh I forced myself to release his wrist.

“Thanks,” he said and then rubbed his face and lay back down. I automatically mirrored him and started brushing my fingers over his hair. He closed his eyes and was silent for a moment, then he took my hand with his, interlacing our fingers over his chest. “It’s so bad,” he mumbled, barely audible. “I hurt all over. Inside and out.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to tell him. I was hurting, too, but what I was feeling could only be a faint echo of his pain. Feeling horrible for no reason was bad already, but feeling horrible for a reason was the worst. And neither of them could be made better with effort. They could just be dulled by time until they were just a faint throbbing in your gut.

“I thought I could just slip into not existing,” he said. “I just don’t want to feel anymore.”

I bit my lip and turned my head so that my forehead was resting against his shoulder. As much as I appreciated him talking to me, the words cut right through me. But again, this wasn’t about me, this was about him.

“But I know it’s wrong,” he carried on. “I know it’s wrong and I still can’t stop thinking like this.”

“It’s okay,” I told him. “Feel everything you have to feel. And we’ll get you help.”

We just lay there for a while and I wished that I could make it all better. I was missing Mikey already, but maybe I had been missing him all this time. A piece of him wasn’t there anymore and you could tell.

 

When we went to Ash’s place for dinner that night, she immediately noticed that something was wrong. We had not told anybody about last night yet and I knew that Mikey was scared of their reactions. But Ashlee took one look at us, saw our exhausted, sad faces and dragged us into the kitchen. The kids were in the living room and hadn’t noticed that we were here yet and Ash obviously wanted to use that short moment to interrogate us.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed.

Mikey shot me a desperate look but ultimately it wasn’t my place to tell other people.

“I… sort of… had a breakdown last night?” he said, phrasing it like a question out of his nervosity. Ash raised an eyebrow but didn’t pry further. Mikey looked at me again. “And I guess… I’m gonna get help, again.”

“Oh honey,” Ash finally said, taking a step forward and wrapping her arms around Mikey. “I’m sorry. But I’m proud of you, too.” When she pulled back Mikey looked at her with a confused expression but she didn’t elaborate. And I just smiled. She knew exactly how to treat us.

After I had asked what was for dinner she just rolled her eyes and shooed us out of the kitchen. “Let that be my concern. Now go spend time with your children.”

 

Telling the children that Mikey would be going away for a while was hard. We had contemplated leaving it for the last minute but instead did it right the next day after we came back from a walk with Bear. Bronx threw a tantrum and screamed that Mikey wasn’t allowed to leave and Bandit cried for hours, even after Mikey had managed to scoop her up from where she was lying on the carpet.

I let them hold on to each other and tried to explain to the kids that Mikey would definitely come back, that he wasn’t feeling well and needed to see doctors because of that and that we would visit him.

“But you can’t leave,” Bandit sobbed, sitting on his lap, her little hand fisted into his shirt. “Can’t leave, too.”

“I’m not leaving, B,” he said, “not really. This is just like when Pete had to go away to make music. Just a tiny bit longer. And you can come visit me, okay?”

“You’re gonna die like Mama and Daddy did,” she said.

“No, baby, no, I promise I won’t.” And I was the only one that could hear the unspoken _I need to go away so I won’t._ The thought of what would have happened if I had been away for longer had been torturing me for a while now and while I tried my best to push it away it was pretty persistent.

 

We ended up being pretty busy that week since we had finally enrolled Bandit in the same preschool as Bronx and – before all this madness – decided that they should stop hanging around at home all the time. So between daily phone calls with my bandmates, getting the kids to and from school and looking for clinics for Mikey I almost got the illusion that I had a normal, albeit quite stressful, life.

Of course, it wasn’t normal at all.

Mikey seemed to be going out of his skin. Or mind. I didn’t like either of those thoughts, but they were the first things to come to mind. One minute he was pacing through the living room in long strides, the next he sat in bed motionless with the blinds down.

The worst was that he seemingly didn’t sleep at all anymore.

“You can’t force yourself to stay awake just because you’re afraid of nightmares,” I told him one night, but he just shook his head.

“It’s not that. I just… can’t sleep.”

And I left it at that. If his brain was too loud to let him sleep then that’s how it was. I was pretty adamant about not letting him take any pills, sleeping pills included, so it took him three days to finally get some sleep and even then it was only a couple of hours.

 

The day of Mikey’s departure began with me getting woken up by Bandit at 5am. “Bronx puked,” she said and I sat up, looking over at Mikey who was opening his eyes in that very moment. I was amazed that he had been sleeping at all and immediately wanted to keep it that way.

“Go back to sleep,” I told him. “I can handle this.” He made an unidentifiable noise and shut his eyes again but I wasn’t sure if he was going to fall back asleep.

I got up and let me get lead to the children’s room. Bronx was sitting in bed crying and vomit decorated part of his sheets and the carpeted floor.

“Hey little man,” I said, picking him up despite the smell and filth. We’d had worse. “You ok?” He shook his head, sniffing loudly, and I brushed his hair out of his face, feeling his temperature in the process. “Mhm, your head feels alright, though. Does your tummy hurt?” This time he nodded and I sighed. “Okay, let’s get you cleaned up and then we’ll see what we can do about that.”

I carried him to the bathroom, Bandit trailing behind us curiously. She even got a washcloth while I put Bronx down and helped him out of his pyjamas. He had gotten some of the vomit on himself, but only his face and hands, so we were done pretty quickly. I threw the pyjamas into the laundry basket and asked Bandit if she could get new ones. She happily obliged and came back a minute later, dragging Bronx’ Superman pyjamas behind her.

“They’re gonna make you feel stronger,” she said and held them out to him. He smiled weakly but made no attempt at taking them, so I did. At least he had stopped crying.

“Thanks,” I nodded to Bandit and she beamed at me. Gerard and Lindsey had done a damn fine job with her and for some reason in this particular moment it hit me hard. They would never see her grow into the awesome person she was going to become.

When Bronx was dressed again I put him and Bandit down on our bed in the master bedroom and told them to be quiet because Mikey was apparently really sleeping. Then I went to clean up Bronx’ bed and the carpet. It took me a while to change the sheets and when I came back, the kids were asleep; Bandit lying to Mikey’s left, snuggled into his side, Bronx to his right with Mikey’s arm around him.

“Sleep well,” I whispered to them, carefully lying down next to them.

It didn’t even matter that I would have to get back up an hour later to make breakfast. This was what I wanted my family to look like.

 

I let the three of them sleep as long as I could that day. Mikey came into the kitchen while I was drinking my first cup of coffee and I handed it over to him wordlessly when he sat down.

“Should’ve known that the smell would wake you up,” I smiled and got back to tending to setting the table.

“It was nice,” he said, taking a sip from the mug. “Waking up like that.”

“You three looked adorable last night,” I told him.

“When Bandit came in to wake us up I was actually having a nightmare,” he said after a moment. “And then I was scared to fall back asleep and was sort of dozing when the two of them came in. But they… made me feel safe.”

I put a jug of orange juice on the table and then sat down next to him. “That’s good.”

It was good. But we both knew that it didn’t erase his problems. He could draw strength from the kids, but he couldn’t suck all the energy out of them. And he didn’t want to. I wanted to say more, but an energetic Bandit came running into the kitchen, followed by Bronx, who looked a lot sleepier.

“Hey buddy,” I said, while Bandit climbed up on Mikey’s lap. “How are you feeling?”

“Weird,” he mumbled.

“Does your stomach still hurt?”

“Yeah…” he sat down on his chair and then just sort of stared at his plate. “I don’t wanna eat.”

I frowned. “You’ll have to eat something, baby. Just some toast.”

“No,” he shook his head.

“How about some crackers?” Mikey asked, having finished his cup of coffee with some difficulty since Bandit wanted to try it and he had had to fend off her grabs for the mug.

Bronx looked thoughtful for a moment but then shook his head again. “No,” he repeated.

I sighed and got up to get some crackers, just in case. “Okay,” I said, putting them on the table and then walked over to the counter to pour myself and Mikey another cup of coffee. “But if you do want one, they’re right there.”

The rest of our morning passed by in tense silence but when we got up to get ready for the day I saw Bronx grab two crackers and that made me feel a little better.

 

We dropped Mikey off in front of the clinic an hour later and the kids clung to him for dear life. Originally we had thought we could leave the kids at home, especially since Bandit’s reaction to cars was still kind of bad sometimes, but Ash had to work today and I didn’t want to get a babysitter.

“I’ll just be away for a few weeks,” Mikey told them but holding them just as tightly. “And you can come see me whenever you want to.”

We had looked at the clinic together and they were discreet and from what I could tell really professional and nice, so I didn’t doubt that he would be in good hands. I just didn’t want to let him go.

I could see that he was scared. He didn’t want to go but he didn’t know what else to do, either.

I was just glad he hadn’t disappeared on us before I had come back. Or worse. God, I was so glad I hadn’t gone to Europe with the guys, eventually receiving a call that Ash had found Mikey in the kitchen just an hour too late... I vehemently shook my head and reminded myself that everything was alright. Mikey was alive, Mikey was strong and maybe he wasn’t okay but he was getting help.

“You alright?” Mikey asked over the heads of the kids and I nodded.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, stepping closer and joining them in their embrace. Group hugs were good therapy. “Just thinking too much.”

When I drew back he gave me a sad smile as if he knew exactly what I had been thinking about. “You’ll have your hands full for a while.” I knew he had wanted to say so much more.

I rolled my eyes. “As if I didn’t already. But they’re capable hands, I hope.”

“There’s no one I’d rather leave Bandit with,” he said.

“Not even Frank?” I asked and he chuckled silently, shaking his head. “Or your parents?”

“You’d really fight for her?” he asked after a moment and it took me a second to remember what I had said the morning after I had come home.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m gonna fight for you, too. You’re both stuck with me.”

Because that was really what it came down to. I wouldn’t let him give up. It didn’t seem like it at the moment but he still had a lot to live for and maybe somewhere in the future happiness was waiting for us. We just had to get there.

Mikey pulled me into a kiss and I closed my eyes and kissed him back. The angle was awkward because of the kids still clinging to us but I was still holding on to him for dear life. Until I had to let go.

“I love you,” I told him.

I picked Bandit up because she wanted to run after Mikey when he grabbed his bag and started to walk towards the entry. I told her to wave him goodbye. Bronx was holding on to my other hand so I couldn’t wave, but when Mikey turned around a last time before going through the doors he smiled.

 

Thankfully we got home without the kids being particularly difficult and I was ready to hole us in for the day. I got out the Lilo & Stitch DVD and helped Bandit build a fort next to the couch in which we spent the next few hours. We could have a lazy day if we wanted to and I could spoil my kids. Fuck school, fuck responsibilities.

“They’re just like us,” Bandit said, as the movie was almost done.

I blinked. Last time I had checked we had no blue aliens in our house.

“Really?” I asked. “Who are you?”

She scrunched up her nose in thought. “Stitch,” she finally decided and I laughed.

“You can be Stitch for Halloween,” I suggested.

“You’re Lilo, not Stitch,” Bronx said tiredly from my other side.

“No!” Bandit screeched and attempted to hit him but only got as far as my back.

“Be nice,” I said to both of them. “Bandit can be whoever she wants to be.” But ultimately, if we wanted to keep the comparison straight, Bronx was right. Bandit would be Lilo and Mikey would be Nani. More or less, if we twisted the relations a little. On the other hand, what was then left for Bronx and me? There were enough characters, but none really seemed to fit.

Maybe it was better to just go with the morale behind the movie. We could still be a family, no matter how broken we were.

“I love you guys,” I said.

“Love you, too, Dad,” Bronx mumbled while Bandit just snuggled more into my side.

 

Later, after we had had dinner and I had tucked the kids into bed and made sure that they were fine, I called Patrick.

“I’m tired, Trick,” I said when he picked up, instead of a greeting.

“Go to sleep, Pete,” he said with a low chuckle. “You’re a single parent again; you need all the rest you can get.”

“I miss you,” I mumbled, stifling a yawn.

“Yeah, I miss you, too. But unlike you I’m busy running this band.”

“Don’t be mean.” I knew he didn’t mean it, but even the joke wasn’t fair. I did my best, but there was only so much I could do. “I can get a bit more involved now. The kids are out of the house until the afternoon during weekdays and Mikey’s not here and… ugh.” As much as I was glad for having a bit of time to myself again and being able to do what I loved most, I still hated the fact that Mikey wasn’t here, that Mikey was hurting so much.

“You don’t have to, Pete,” I could hear Patrick say. “We completely understand. I’m sorry, it was a stupid joke.”

“No, it’s okay,” I said. “I can do it. I could at least scout some replacement bass players for the summer tour. And I can definitely do more promo things with you guys; I just need to find out what to do with the kids when it involves being away for a few days.”

“Just go to sleep,” Patrick repeated. “You can figure all of this out in the morning. I know you’re really torn.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” I sighed. “Sleep actually sounds really good. Good night, Patrick.”

“Sleep well.”

Sleep, then decisions in the morning. The responsible thing to do. I always wondered when in the last ten years I had grown up.

 

The next day, Bronx’ temperature read 104.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a patchwork chapter, I kept going back to it and adding bits inbetween and new scenes.
> 
> Now, I don't have pre-written chapters anymore and honestly no real idea when the next chapter is going to come. Even if I would get it done on time I don't know if I'll be able to upload it. Much like Mikey I'm starting inpatient treatment (what a coincidence lol) on Monday and I don't know if I'll have Internet and I can't leave the premises during the first week. But I'll update at some point during the next three weeks, hopefully.


	8. Chapter 8

I had really counted on getting some time to myself and getting some work done but with Bronx being sick that was obviously not going to happen. It was just a cold but I got so freaked out by my baby having a high fever that I called Ashlee. She came to pick up Bandit for preschool, even though she seemed to be reluctant to go, and told me to call her if it got worse.

So I spent most of the day on the couch with Bronx, watching Adventure Time on my Laptop, until he fell asleep again around noon. I tried to answer some work related E-Mails but couldn’t focus so I tried taking a nap, too. Which didn’t work too well, either.

This fucking sucked, because since Bronx was asleep I couldn’t even really _do_ anything without either waking him up or leaving the room for long amounts of time, which I didn’t want to do. So after several minutes of idly sitting around on the couch and fidgeting I finally grabbed some sheets of paper and a pen and started writing.

I didn’t really know what I was writing, but over the years I had learnt that letting my thoughts loose on paper was generally a good idea. When in doubt I could still burn the evidence later.

I had been writing for around half an hour when I heard the front door open. My first thought was Ash, but I was pretty sure she had said she would be busy today, and I had completely lost track of where exactly the guys were today and what they were doing.

Then I heard low voices and two pairs of footsteps and was really confused. God, I shouldn’t have given keys of this house out to everyone and their dogs. I wondered if I should think about changing the locks…

Then someone whisper-shouted “Pete, hermano, are you in here?” and I let out a relieved breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

“What the heck, Gabe?” I asked, censoring myself, half out of habit, half out of fear that Bronx might actually be awake.

Gabe stepped through the door from the hallway with a big grin on his face. “There you are.” I just looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Then I noticed the second person rounding the corner and my face lit up.

“Travie!”

“So he gets the smile with teeth and all and I get the eyebrow? I’m deeply wounded,” Gabe pouted.

“Shut up,” I said, getting up to hug both of them. “What are you doing here?  This is awesome!”

I had really not expected them to show up, especially since Travie had definitely been in New York when I had talked to him last. Which, admittedly, had been some time ago. This was probably the most pleasant surprise I had in a while.

“We’re staging an intervention,” Travie finally answered my question and Gabe held up the two large plastic bags that he had been carrying.

“Sounds promising,” I said, already walking towards the kitchen because my good manners demanded it. “But you do know Bronx is sick and I’m sort of confined to the house, right?”

“Well, yeah, that’s part of the reason why we’re here. You texted Patrick, he texted me and I talked to Travie because we were hanging out,” Gabe grinned and put down the bags on the kitchen table.

“You want something to drink? I’m out of alcohol of any kind, sorry.” I had thrown all alcoholic beverages out after Mikey’s escapades and hadn’t restocked yet. Something told me that I probably wouldn’t, anyway, in the near future.

“Do you still make that fresh orange juice for Bronx? Because I could use a glass of that,” Travie said and I laughed.

“I used all the oranges this morning but I think there’s still some juice left over,” I said, already opening the fridge. “Yeah, there we go.” Gabe had already gotten glasses and I poured us a glass or orange juice each.

“Man, we party hard,” Gabe commented.

“I don’t know about you but I’m already having a ton of fun,” Travie informed him.

I just shook my head at the both of them and took my glass to go back to the living room. Leaving Bronx unsupervised for so long didn’t seem like a good idea to me, even if he was still sleeping and not in any danger. “So, what did you two have in mind?” Travie followed me while Gabe stayed behind to unpack the groceries.

“Well, we brought movies and groceries so we can keep you happy, busy and fed and then one of us is gonna pick up Bandit later and we can have a parlor game afternoon if we’re up for it,” Gabe listed loudly through the rustling of the grocery bags.

“Sounds good,” I said, now crossing over into the living room and walking over to the sofa. Bronx was still fast asleep under the blanket I had thrown over him and when I felt his forehead now he actually didn’t feel as hot as he had this morning.

Travie sat down on the other end of the couch carefully so he didn’t jostle Bronx. “Poor little gremlin,” he commented. “First time I’m in the city in ages and he’s sick.”

“Having you here will make him feel better,” I promised. “But please explain to me why you were _hanging out_ with Gabein LA?”

“Well, technically I flew in to surprise you and Bronx and Gabe picked me up yesterday night so we could perfect our scheme over dinner. Then we got Patrick’s text this morning so we revised our plan a bit and went shopping,” he explained and I just nodded along. I had long since given up on trying to make sense out of my friends’ ideas.

“As you can see, we’re still as insane as ever,” Gabe proclaimed, having finished with the groceries and now joining us in the living room.

“Keep it down, he’s still asleep,” I said.

“That’s a pity, I want to hug him and see his happy face when he sees us,” he sighed.

“Don’t you dare wake him up,” I frowned. “Just wait a bit, he’s bound to wake up out of his own accord sometime.”

“Dude,” Travie said, pointing at my Laptop on the coffee table. “Adventure Time? Really?” Finn’s face was frozen on the screen.

“I wasn’t watching it on my own,” I explained, rolling my eyes. “Bronx and I were having a little marathon for sick babies and then he fell asleep. But it’s a really witty, funny show, we can watch a few episodes later.”

“I’m in,” Gabe grinned.

“You know half the episodes because you watched them with Bill and Evie and have been converted to its awesomeness, of course you’re in,” I said, pinching his side.

Gabe swatted my hand away. “Well, yeah, obviously,” he shrugged.

“You’re weird,” Travie said.

“Who isn’t?” I countered.

 

Bronx slept another hour – for which I was grateful, since sleep had always been a good cure for any kind of disease – and we finally migrated to the kitchen to start preparing for lunch and catch up until I heard a cough from the living room and a second later Bronx’ little voice calling out a searching “Daddy?”

“I’m here, baby!” I called back and motioned at Gabe and Travie to be silent. Or as silent as possible, since not making any sound just wasn’t in our nature. We went back to the living room but they waited outside – out of sight – while I went over to the couch to sit down next to Bronx. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. “It smells good.”

I laughed. “Lunch’s not ready yet,” I told him. “You hungry?”

“Yes!” he nodded. Obviously he was feeling a bit better.

“I have a surprise for you,” I said and his eyes widened.

“What is it?” he wanted to know.

“Hmm, it’s less a question of what and more a question of who,” I mused and Bronx furrowed his brows in confusion but I decided to go easy on him. “Guys!” I called and our two visitors entered the room.

Bronx let out a squeal that ended in a cough but once he recovered he beamed up at the two men. “Uncle Travie, Uncle Gabe!” he stood up on the sofa and I automatically extended a hand to steady him should he lose his balance.

“Hey,” they grinned in unison.

“You got big since the last time I’ve been here,” Travie said and Bronx extended his arms towards him. He didn’t need to ask, Travie picked him up without further prompting. “You’re gonna be a really tall boy someday.”

“Just as big as you?” Bronx asked and we all laughed.

“Hmm, maybe not. But you’re gonna be taller than your daddy,” Gabe piped up.

“Hey!” I cut in, but my protests were ignored. I wasn’t that small, just a bit below average.

“But then Daddy can’t carry me around anymore,” Bronx said after a second of silence.

“Yeah, change always has a good and a bad side,” Travie said and I snorted.

Bronx seemed to remember something and looked around. “Where’s Bandit?” he asked.

“She’s still in preschool,” I said. “But I think we can go and pick her up soon.”

“Are they gonna let us take her?” Gabe asked. “Since, I mean, they probably know you but Travie and I are just two strange men for those kids.”

“If you stay with Bronx, I can go and get her,” I shrugged.

“But I want to come,” Gabe pouted.

“Who’s the four-year-old here?” I shook my head but we all looked at Travie.

“It’s fine,” he said. “Ten minutes alone with my godson actually sounds pretty cool.” He grinned at Bronx and Bronx grinned back.

“Don’t set anything on fire while we’re gone,” I said to both of them and they nodded obediently. Gabe laughed and I went to grab my keys.

 

“So, are you legally Bandit’s guardian now or…?” Gabe asked once we had pulled out of the driveway.

“I… what?” I gave him a confused look before redirecting my eyes to the street. I actually hadn’t even thought of this until now, which, as I suddenly realized, could have been a grave mistake.

“Dude, you mean Mikey and you didn’t look into that? He’s in a clinic because he’s mentally unstable and you’re babysitting his dead brother’s daughter without like, any legal requirements? Jesus, Pete.”

I shrunk in my seat until I almost couldn’t look over the wheel anymore. “I’ll sort it out,” I said. As loudmouthed as I was, I knew that this wasn’t something you fucked around with. I hated custody shit, even if I had never had to battle for Bronx. “It’s not like they could take her away from us, right?”

“Technically they probably could,” Gabe said with a sigh. “You really never gave it a thought? What the fuck, man. I mean, you fuck up sometimes but you’re usually always thorough when it counts.”

“I know,” I mumbled. “We just… forgot, I guess? Like, I think the people at the hospital gave Mikey some kind of form and said they’d notify child services but we never got any mail from them and I think we just forgot. Seriously, it’s been a tough month; there was a lot of other stuff to deal with.”

“No shit,” Gabe said and shook his head. And that sort of was the end of our conversation.

We pulled up in front of the preschool ten minutes later. “I think she’s having a really good day, but don’t freak out if she starts crying when she sees the car. I’ve been talking with her teacher to maybe get her a child therapist or something. Don’t want her to keep a damn trauma.”

“Well, at least you’re good at making sure she’s safe,” Gabe nodded and followed me inside.

But when we got back to the car, Bandit was too busy to tell us all about what she’d done today than get scared about the car.

 

Of course Bronx and Travie had covered the children’s room in legos and stuffed animals by the time we came home and Bandit happily joined them in their chaos.

“Dude,” Travie said when he saw me. “You haven’t even unpacked yet.”

“I’ve had better things to do,” I said. “How do you even know that?”

“Door to your room was open,” he shrugged. “Saw the bag.”

“I want to do laundry!” Gabe exclaimed and turned around to go to my room. Travie and I shared a confused look. That was probably one of the weirdest things I’d ever heard Gabe say and Gabe had said a lot of weird things since I’d known him. But finally I shrugged. If Gabe wanted to do laundry I wouldn’t stop him.

“I’m hungry,” Bronx said to me.

“I think Gabe doesn’t want to cook anymore,” Travie supplied helpfully.

“Do you guys want to play alone while we make lunch?” I asked the kids and they looked up at me and nodded eagerly.

“Alright then,” Travie said and got up from his position on the floor.

Their plan for the food had been to make some kind of weird chili – my bet was that Gabe had invented the recipe - with salad for later and of course lots of snack food for the rest of the day. It wasn’t that I was complaining, since I had been running out of ideas and Ash had already threatened to buy me even more cook books, but I wasn’t too sure if the kids would approve. But either they’d get used to the taste or there was plenty of other food in the house.

I was fiddling with the stove and Travie was putting together the salad when we heard Gabe call.

“Hermano!” We shared a look, since we usually couldn’t be sure who should answer, but Gabe was already coming downstairs. “Pete, where the fuck is your brain?”

“What?” I turned away from the stove to look at him. He shoved a crinkling bag in my face. “Oh.”

“Travie wasn’t kidding when he said you hadn’t unpacked,” Gabe said, shaking his head. “Those need to be cherished.”

“I wanted to give them to Mikey,” I said and eyed the bag of Green Tea Kit Kats guiltily.

“I know! And you forgot. Jesus, you need someone to make lists for you and write a calendar and shit.”

“Do you want me to get an assistant or a manager, because I’ve got the latter and you’re doing a good job right now at being the first,” I grinned and Gabe whacked me with the bag. I snatched it from his hands. “Calm down, I’ll give them to him when I go visit him.”

“You better. The boy needs a break,” Travie said.

“That was lame,” I said, rolling my eyes, and put the Kit Kats down on the counter so I could return my attention to the chili. “Gabe, are you done _doing laundry_ because I could use some help with this.”

“Fine,” he huffed and I helpfully made room for him. I was glad that he was looking out for me, since, to be honest, I had lost sight of some things in the course of the past few weeks. Maybe I really should make lists.

 

We were sitting at the table later and the kids were responding surprisingly well to the chili, when I heard my phone ring from the living room.

“Sorry,” I said and got up to answer it. When I picked it up the display showed a number I didn’t recognize and I stood there for a moment, unsure if I should answer. Usually I didn’t in these cases but today… Today I decided otherwise. “Hello?” I asked.

“Hi, it’s Frank… Iero.”

I made a noise of which I myself didn’t even really know what it was supposed to mean. I didn’t know many Frank’s. “Yeah, hi,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Umm, is Mikey there? Because he’s not answering his own phone.”

I froze. Shit. Mikey had told his parents that he would go into the clinic and I had just assumed that he had told everybody that was close to him but obviously he had not. He hadn’t told Frank. He probably hadn’t told Ray, either.

“Shit, Frank, I’m sorry,” I blurted. “He’s not here, he’s in a clinic.” That probably didn’t make his worries any better. I bit my lip and closed my eyes.

“What? What happened?” he sounded panicked and I inwardly slapped myself.

“He’s not… injured or anything and he didn’t… Ugh,” I stammered, which was not the eloquent answer I wanted and Frank needed. I took a deep breath. “He had a little… breakdown and decided that he had to get help and … yeah.”

“What do you mean _breakdown_? And why the fuck didn’t anybody tell me?” Frank yelled and I grimaced.

“Look, I’m really sorry,” I said, “Everything was really hectic and I don’t think Mikey told anybody but his parents.”

“Yeah, Mikey didn’t but you probably told like half of California,” he spat.

“Excuse me?” I really didn’t want to fight with him but that was a low blow. I hadn’t told anybody without asking Mikey first, which meant that only my band, Gabe and Travie knew. Well, and Ash. “Who do you think I am?”

“Someone who was too busy being an egoistic ass to look after one of my best friends!”

And now that, that really hurt. I wasn’t even able to find an answer. This was exactly what I had told myself over and over again. That if I had been here, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe Mikey would have been able to just tell me how low he was without almost ruining himself. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to leave but just get a normal therapist and stay with us.

Before I could gather my thoughts and my courage to answer, the phone was taken from my hands.

“I have no idea what you said to Pete,” Gabe said into the phone, “but he’s shaking all over and there’s two little children here who don’t need another unstable parent.”

There were more words from the other side of the line but I couldn’t make out anything, then Gabe ended the call.

“He’s flying out tomorrow,” he said. He hugged me and only then I noticed how hard I was really shaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wohoooo I'm only half a week late xD I hope this chapter is ok, the second half was written in the privacy of my room at the clinic lol


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK! :D I sort of lost my muse after the last chapter but got it back when I came home so that's good. Now, we continue on the arduous adventures of Mikey and Pete.

Gabe and Travie flanked me like extremely overprotective bodyguards. I knew we had to be attracting a lot of looks and probably also the attention of a few paparazzi but they couldn’t have been persuaded to stay at home, so Ash was on kids duty today – thankfully Bronx was doing better – and we were facing the glorious task to pick up Frank from LAX. I was nervous and jittery but my two friends were solid, glowering rocks at my side. I was glad for the solid part, at least. I could rely on them if things went wrong.

It seemed like an eternity until I saw Frank coming toward us. We were really easy to spot so his steps were determined which made him look so awfully menacing that I actually took a step backwards before I caught myself.

“Hi,” Gabe said when he reached us and made a grab for his bag. “Let me take that.” Frank blinked and his face showed confusion but he surrendered his bag and then turned to me.

“Hi,” he said and his eyes wandered to Travie for a moment before he looked at me again. “I just wanted to apologize for yesterday first. I was shocked and didn’t know how to deal with the situation so I let it out on you.” He shrugged.

“It’s cool,” I said, waving my hand dismissively.

“It’s not,” he said. “It was really unfair and I’m sorry.” He opened his arms and looked at me questioningly. I sighed and hugged him. He was family for Mikey and that probably made me family for him, too.

“Let’s just go home,” I finally said. “And later we can go see Mikey.” The other three all agreed with that and we made our way through the tons of people to the car.

 

Travie and Gabe had stayed over the night before but I had told them this morning that if they didn’t want to sleep on the couch they’d have to go back to Travie’s place tonight since Frank would be occupying the guest room. Gabe had seemed reluctant to leave me alone with Frank and the kids but I had said that he could camp outside my front door like a deranged fan gone stalker and that had been the end of the discussion – although I wouldn’t hold it past Gabe to actually do something like that.

We got Frank settled in the guest room and then stood around awkwardly for a moment, until I decided that we might as well go visit Mikey right now since visiting hours would be starting soon anyway. Gabe and Travie were still reluctant about giving up their roles as bodyguards but I didn’t want Mikey to have to deal with so many visitors at once so I told them they could visit him in a few days if they wanted to. At least I had been able to call Mikey this morning and tell him that Frank was coming. He had sounded tired and confused but ultimately he had said he looked forward to our visit.

So they drove home and Frank and I got into my car and I maneuvered us out onto the street, my heart hammering in my chest. I had never been scared of driving until now, not even after the accident, but now suddenly I was feeling like every corner I turned could be my last.

Frank eyed me warily. “Are you okay?” he asked, concerned.

“Not really,” I said. “But I’ll have to deal with it.”

“I can drive,” he suggested but I just laughed humorlessly.

“Ever driven in LA?” I asked and he shook his head. Just like I expected. They had recorded and toured here before but probably had had a driver or one of the other guys had driven. “Trust me, it’s easier if I drive us to the clinic then. Just… talk to me. Please? Distracts me from the fear.”

That probably hadn’t eased his concerns but I wasn’t aiming for calming but honest. Luckily he didn’t call me out on it and obliged my request. Neither of us were bad people, I realized while I listened to him talk about his kids, we were just two little dudes, in way over their heads and scared shitless. It was a soothing thought.

 

Mikey actually looked worse than he had when he had been admitted and it sent another wave of panic through me after I had just calmed down from the driving anxiety. He had told us to meet him in the hospital park since he needed to get out of his room and I had quietly been glad for that. I didn’t need to see another site of despair from the inside. I had tried convincing myself that it was about healing but hadn’t been too successful and when Mikey came walking towards us looking like he might just drop dead the next second I had trouble concealing my trembling hands.

Frank hugged Mikey for a long time. “You look like shit,” he said when he finally pulled back and Mikey grinned half-heartedly and shrugged.

“I’m recovering from a panic attack,” he said and I actively stopped and just _stared_ at him, mouth gaping wide open, Frank mirroring me.

“What?” we said in unison.

“Shit,” Mikey mumbled, rubbing his forehead. “Yeah, sorry, I have like… no filter anymore. Uhh, yeah, hi guys, I had a panic attack about half an hour before you got here but I’m okay now.” We continued to stare at him. “This is a stupid way to start. Sorry,” he apologized again.

“I’m… confused,” I said.

Mikey sighed. “Let’s walk and I’ll get you up to date,” he suggested. We followed him down the path like mindless puppets. “So yeah, I look like shit,” he said after we had been walking in silence for a while. “It’s because I actually have to face all the shitty things in my life and talk about them. My therapists say the panic attacks I’ve been having for the last two days are due to that but hopefully only a temporary addition to my baggage. I guess I have to fall apart completely before I can get better.”

“That sounds horrible,” I blurted. “And came … not out of nowhere but really sudden. I had no idea, Mikey.”

He shrugged. “I meant it when I said I needed to leave. I could have gotten these at home, too, just because I wasn’t able to deal with anything anymore and what would we have done then? I actually think I _had one._ At some point during those two weeks when you weren’t there, sometime in the middle of the night.” He looked at me and I had to force myself to not look away. I still felt horribly guilty. I still felt like I had failed him. I knew he was right but it was still hard to wrap my head around the fact that Mikey had _fucking panic attacks_. At least he didn’t have to deal with this on his own anymore – or well, with my incompetent help – and had professional help.

“Damn,” Frank muttered while I kept my shocked silence, “I’m sorry, Mikey. We should’ve been here. Ray and I, I mean…”

And yeah, obviously, they could have. Except Frank lived at the other goddamn end of the country. Maybe we shouldn’t blame ourselves. But whose guilt was this? Who was there to blame other than us?

“I don’t think there would’ve been anything you could’ve done,” Mikey said, shaking his head. “I love you guys, I do, but I don’t even feel like myself right now.”

“We could’ve gotten you into therapy earlier,” Frank said, “without risking your life.” I flinched. For a moment I thought that it was a jab at me but then I realized that Frank was still only cursing himself.

“Maybe,” Mikey said, “maybe not. It’s in the past now and I’m still here and hanging on.”

“Thank fuck for that.” Frank went in for another hug and I noticed how tightly Mikey held onto him. “I wouldn’t know what I’d do if I’d lose you, too,” Frank mumbled.

I suddenly felt really uncomfortable. As if I didn’t really belong here and should’ve just dropped Frank off to see Mikey alone. Who was I to interfere with their precious time together? They clearly didn’t need me here right now and while I could see Mikey almost every day in the next few weeks if I – or he – wanted to, Frank would have to leave for Jersey again soon.

“Stop thinking so much,” Mikey said to me over Frank’s shoulder and I blinked; guilt flooding me again, this time at being caught in my negative thoughts. He offered a lopsided  smile. “I can see you thinking. Just stop. This isn’t your fault.” Frank stepped back and Mikey moved towards me. “Stop blaming yourself.”

“I don’t know if I can,” I confessed as he embraced me and I could feel his sigh.

“You should,” he said.

We didn’t stay long after that but told Mikey that we would come back in the next few days. I was better on the way home than I had been on the drive to the clinic, but maybe my thoughts just distracted me this time. Oh, the irony.

 

The kids were elated about Frank’s visit, of course. Bandit repeatedly wanted to know if Cherry and Lily had come, too, and was a bit disappointed when Frank told her that he was the only one. Thankfully she got over her disappointment fairly quickly, fueled by Bronx’ enthusiasm about having someone new in the house to show his lego creations. So when they kidnapped Frank and dragged him to their room, that gave me a little time to breathe, go to the kitchen and make some coffee.

When I was sitting safely at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of coffee at my hands, I got my phone out and called Patrick. I was suddenly very eager for distraction. I needed to keep myself busy.

“Hi,” Patrick greeted me when he picked up and I could already tell that he had been doing something work-related that he had interrupted now to answer my phone call, “how’d it go?”

“Okay, I guess?” I mumbled, not really wanting to think or talk about it, “Do you think we could get everyone together tomorrow night for some planning?”

“That’s pretty short notice,” he said and I heard paper rustling, which meant he was either going through pages in his calendar or notebook. Then it stopped abruptly. “Are you okay?”

I sighed. “I’m about 30% okay,” I confessed. “I just really want to get some shit done, alright?”

“Fine. Just… you know, tell me before you freak out completely.”

“I will,” I promised. I wasn’t about to put everyone through another scare. “Hey, I know we have like five potential stand-ins for me already but I could also call Zack. Merrick.”

“Mhm,” Patrick made thoughtfully. “Pretty sure ATL is touring Europe with Green Day in June.”

“Yeah, I know. But I could still try.”

“We should’ve just gotten a proper touring bassist without any other obligations,” he sighed. “Planning would be infinitely easier then.”

“Easier, yes, but believe me, I’d feel even guiltier then,” I said and hoped Patrick wouldn’t press the point.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he finally said and I exhaled a sigh of relief. “We’ll come over around… seven?”

“Sure,” I nodded. “I’m gonna call our victims.”

Patrick chuckled. “You do that. See you then, Pete.”

“Bye,” I mumbled. Then I put my phone down and took a big gulp of coffee before I picked it up again. Best to kill two birds with one stone and call Brendon first. He could just pass the message on to Dallon and it would be less hassle for me.

Brendon was obviously excited about the prospect of getting together with some friends and talk about our upcoming tour but also reminded me that he “had a wedding coming up in two weeks and nobody of us better dared to not show up” which, to be fair, I had actually really forgotten until now. Another thing I needed to keep in mind. What was I even supposed to do? Show up alone? Yay, fun!

 

Frank went to see Ray the next day and I used the empty house to do all the things I hadn’t had the time to do in the last few weeks. I even made lists of things that needed to get dealt with and thing that I wasn’t to forget under any circumstances. During all the writing I noticed that yeah, I had left the Kit Kats at home yesterday _again_ and I also hadn’t talked to Mikey about the custody stuff concerning Bandit. I thought about calling him for a moment but it was hard to reach him during the day and I also wanted to do this face to face rather than over the telephone – although I had gotten pretty good at that over the years.

So I just sighed, wrote the two points in big red sharpie on a sheet of paper and pinned it to the fridge. I was most likely to see it there. Hopefully.

When I ran out of things to do I started doing laundry even though it wasn’t absolutely necessary yet. My mind had started going a mile a minute again and watching the washing machine was calming and kind of hypnotic.

I was relieved when I got to pick up the kids from preschool because, well, it was a task and they usually occupied my whole being. But today Bandit didn’t even want to go near the car and I cursed myself for not picking a place in walking distance to our house. I was considering just ditching the car and fucking walking home even though it would probably take us an hour but then I just picked up Bandit, took Bronx by the hand and went to an ice cream parlor ten minutes away. Best to remove Bandit from the situation for a while until she had calmed down. Maybe the second try would be successful.

While the kids happily ate their ice cream I made a note in my phone to finally find a child therapist for Bandit. I probably should have done this earlier but as Gabe and I had noticed I had not been able to stay on top of things – not due to lack of trying but more due to an abundance of, well, shit. I was just a human and it happened, but I still needed to try harder. I had two little human beings depend on me. And I also had a band. But that was a different thing.

On the second try, Bandit really did get into the car but she kept fidgeting in her seat the whole time which in turn made _me_ nervous and one time I caught myself having to actively hold myself back to not yell at the kids. Which… wasn’t good. I didn’t yell.  We did get home without any major freakouts and yelling but I was still happy to get them out of the car.

What made my afternoon infinitely better was a text from Mikey. It was just there when I checked my phone and only contained a single sentence but it made my heart hurt – this time with relief and happiness. _i like music therapy :)_

Of course everyone arrived before the kids went to bed but that actually took the dread of uncomfortable work out of it. Obviously Jon hadn’t been able to make it today since there was quite some distance between LA and Chicago but fortunately Sisky had been here because of Say Anything. Everyone was happy to relieve me of my dad duties for a moment and I got to chat with Sisky while Gabe and Brendon chased the kids and Bear through the backyard and the others caught up with Frank.

But finally we sat down to talk business. Frank wasn’t there but had rather gone to make a phone call to Jamia.

“Okay, so,” I started, which wasn’t very eloquent but to be fair no one ever was without having rehearsed a speech, “we should probably like make a plan. Who plays which shows? And when to rehearse since I’m pretty sure neither of you can play all of our songs.” Joe chuckled in the background and Brendon made a face like I was challenging him. Which, yeah, he probably could play everything of the old stuff already.

“This is a fuckton of work,” Dallon noted and Patrick nodded.

“Yeah, I said the same but he wasn’t gonna have it any other way.”

“We’ll be disappointing a lot of people,” I said, shrugging. “So better give them something to be surprised by and happy about.”

Dallon shrugged. “Just wanted to mention it. I think it’s a good idea, just kind of laborious.”

“Listen to you using big words,” Gabe grinned. Dallon looked like he wanted to protest but Brendon kicked his shin and that was that.

Patrick rolled his eyes. “I’d say let’s get to work.” And we did.

It was hard to get the dates assigned. I definitely wanted to do Chicago, Skate and Surf, New York and LA. Andy said that I’d have to do a lot of flying but I countered I’d rather do that than do the whole tour which resulted in an almost-fight. Brendon sort of cleared it up with a loud whistle and then announced that he’d totally do the Vegas date. I said Jon had already claimed the Wisconsin ones and from there we just sort of tried to give everyone what they wanted while keeping their other obligations in mind.

“Please don’t do this for the arena tour, too,” Patrick finally sighed when he had gotten everything written down. I shook my head.

“Hopefully things will have settled a bit then,” I said. Then I smiled. “And I promised the kids to take them to Reading & Leeds.”

“Well, we’ve done crazier things,” Joe said after a second of surprised silence and everyone laughed. We certainly had. This was only one step on the ladder of crazy we had climbed.


	10. Chapter 10

When Ray convinced Frank to spend some time with him too a few days later I took that as my chance to go visit Mikey alone. Well, with the kids, but without Frank so it counted as alone in my book. I had actually finally found a therapist for Bandit and she would have her first appointment the next day, which had reminded me that there were pressing matters to discuss.

So I arrived at the clinic with the children in tow and the bag of KitKats hidden behind my back. Mikey was waiting for us at the same spot in the park like last time and when Bandit saw him she yelled in delight and took off running. For a moment I was scared Mikey might fall over when he picked her up but when I saw the look on his face as he spun her around I had to smile. This was okay, I reminded myself. We were fine for the time being.

“Hi,” I said when Mikey had put down Bandit and I got to hug him. “I have something for you. Might be they’re a bit squished now, they traveled halfway around the world with me.” I handed him the KitKats and he shook his head.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“In a good way, I hope?” I asked, grinning to mask my nervosity.

“Obviously,” he nodded.

“Hey, uncle Mikey?” Bronx asked, poking at his thigh. “Are you feeling better now?”

We looked at each other and I shrugged. Mikey sighed. “Not really yet, but I hope I will eventually.”

Bronx stood there for a moment with his brow furrowed, then he nodded. “Okay. Can we go search for flowers?”

“Sure, just pay attention to bees,” I said.

“I’m gonna find the prettiest one!” Bandit exclaimed and they took off. When they were well out of earshot I turned to Mikey. “Actually, I gotta talk to you about something.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Okay?” He motioned towards a bench and I automatically started moving towards it. We should probably both sit down.

“It’s about Bandit,” I said after we had been sitting for a few moments. “I mean, I told you I found a therapist for her but Gabe actually talked to me about something a few days ago that I hadn’t even thought of until then and it’s kind of important-“

“Pete,” Mikey interrupted me, “breathe.”

I obliged and took a shaky breath. “Do we even have any rights? With Bandit, I mean. Did we ever fill out any forms about custody stuff or guardianship or something?”

“Oh,” Mikey made, leaning forward on the bench. “Well, I’m her legal guardian but I don’t think we ever made you one which… is problematic. Fuck. I totally forgot.”

“Yeah, me too”, I said. “When did you become her guardian?”

“The day at the hospital,” he mumbled. “Because I was already appointed before that. He made me promise I’d take care of her if anything ever happened... I told him that was bullshit but I’d do it anyway. And now here I am. They’re gone and I failed them.”

“Hey, no, come on. You know that’s bullshit,” I said. “You’re doing your best. Look at her. She’s happy. Happier than us at least.” I gave an attempt of a smile. That hadn’t come out the way I had wanted it to.

He looked at me and sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be.” I shook my head. “Nothing of this is your fault.”

“I wish I was stronger,” he mumbled.

“You’re the strongest person I know.”

He smiled at that. “I’ll try and keep that in mind. But… we were talking about Bandit.”

“Yeah,” I said. “So, you’re her guardian but I mean… you’re not doing any guarding right now and technically I have zero rights. I would have dealt with this on my own but I wasn’t sure how exactly the situation was so I wanted to talk to you first.”

He nodded, then shrugged with a pained expression. “I guess they could take her away from us. I’m her guardian but they could probably declare me unfit and I’m not living with you guys right now and it’s all kind of fucked up. So I guess we’d have to make you a guardian as well…”

“I have no idea how that works,” I confessed.

“It actually shouldn’t be as complicated; it’s just a bit of paperwork. We have lawyers and assistants, Pete, you can figure it out.”

I nodded and took a deep breath. Yeah. I could do this. I was terrified of bringing this up to the authorities in case they declared both me and Mikey unfit and took Bandit away from us. I was terrified because I was constantly scared right now. But I could do this. Right.

“It’ll be okay,” Mikey said and I had to laugh because while his words were genuine, I couldn’t fail to see the irony behind them. He was in a clinic because he was unable to cope with his brothers’ death, I was developing a phobia of driving and one of the two kids I was caring for had spontaneous outbursts of grief for their parents and was then alright five minutes after. But it would be okay.

“Stop thinking,” he said, placing his hand on the back of my neck the same way I had done so long ago on the day in the hospital. I shivered because I had to imagine the way he had felt then. Out of his mind with grief for his sister-in-law and fear for his brother. But the gesture was grounding and for a minute I only focused on the air entering and exciting my lungs and the way Mikey’s hand felt on my skin.

I wanted to say that I was sorry for being so fucked up. Mikey couldn’t use even more fucked up people in his vincinity. He needed to get better, not soak up my anxieties. I wanted to apologize for not being there for him properly. A visit with a cheap bag of KitKats and a discussion about whether his niece would be taken away from him was all I had to offer. But I couldn’t get the words out and when I looked up all those thoughts were pushed out of my mind.

I saw the kids standing at the fence that surrounded the low-security property, talking to a man. Even on the distance between us I could see the camera dangling around his neck. “Fucking hell,” I growled, getting up before I knew what I was doing, ignoring Mikey’s warning – almost desperate – “Pete, no…” For once in the turmoil that had been my life for the past few weeks I was outraged and actually knew what to do about it. Fuck this. This guy had no right to do this and I was going to kick his face in for causing even more distress to my family.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I shouted, walking towards the fence with broad, determined strides. In my rage I had actually forgotten not to swear in front of the kids but that was the least of my worries right now. “Bronx, Bandit, get away from him. Come here.” They obliged even though they eyed me with confused and worried faces but I was just relieved to get them away from that idiot.

“Talking to these two sweethearts and doing my job, Pete,” he grinned at me.

“Don’t use my name. And leave my kids alone.” Fuck this asshole.

“Alright, alright. You’re visiting Mikey. So the rumors about his mental break were true? And you’re taking care of the kids?”

“None of your goddamn business,” I growled, shoving the children behind me and shielding them with my arms from the poised camera of the paparazzo. “Fuck off. Leave my family alone.”

“Dude, no need to be so angry.”

“Fuck you. I’m fucking sick of you assholes getting all up in my private life like this. You don’t even give a fuck, you’re just in for the money.” Somewhere in the back of my mind I realized that usually, I maybe wouldn’t always talk like this, but it was all true. I was sick of all the unwanted attention. I loved my life and wouldn’t trade it for the world but I had never wanted all the Hollywood bullshit. It was pretentious and toxic and I hated that everybody always knew what was going on in my life, even when I didn’t want them to. It was a burden that I didn’t want for Bronx and Bandit and Mikey. And right now I was giving this idiot exactly what he wanted but I was too angry to care.

“Calm down, Pete, I just wanted to know what’s happenin’…”

“Shut the fuck up and _don’t say my name_!”

“You said they’re your family,” he carried on as if I wasn’t standing right in front of him, seething with anger, “so you’re together with Mikey. But Bandit isn’t even blood related to you and only his niece and he has no relation to Bronx so I don’t see how that’s fam-“ He didn’t get further because I took another step forward, reached over the fence and punched him right in his stupid face.

I could hear the kids gasping behind me and Mikey shouting my name and then he was dragging me back before the guy could take a swing at me, too. “You should’ve just let security handle it,” he scolded.

The paparazzo had taken a few steps back and was staring at us. “Man, no need to punch me,” he said, rubbing his face.

“Fuck you! You better leave before he lets me go and I smash your piece-of-shit camera!”

“Calm down, you lunatic,” he said, raising his hands defensively and then turned, practically running away from the scene

“Dammit, Pete, I don’t care about these assholes,” Mikey said with a heavy sigh, releasing me from his grip.

“But I do,” I said, turning around to face him and shaking my head furiously. “I care. Because you deserve better than being written about in their fucking stories on their shitty websites and in their shitty magazines with their shitty photos. We all do.”

“I know,” he said. “Believe me, I do, but you need to calm down. What do we do when you get arrested and there really isn’t anyone to care for Bandit anymore and they ship her off to my parents? What then? I can’t let that happen, Pete.”

I deflated and took a few deep breaths. Yes, he was right, but it was so infuriating. This wasn’t right and everybody knew it but nobody did anything against it. “I’m sorry,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “But I hate it and I don’t know what to do anymore and I’m just angry and sad all the time and I want my life back.”

“Pete,” Mikey said, placing his heads on both sides of my head, curling his fingers in my short hair. “Go home. Call Patrick or Gabe and let it all out. Go for a walk. Meet up with Ash. Punch a pillow. But go home and calm down and take care of the kids. I’m good here, okay? The damage with that dude is done. Please don’t make it any worse. It’s not just me who needs to get better.”

I sighed and tilted my head so our foreheads were resting together. “Okay,” I said. “I’m sorry. This was stupid.”

“It’s okay. You’re a rockstar. Paparazzi are used to you pulling shit like this,” he joked and I grinned.

“Yeah, they better be.”

“Just promise me to go home and let it out somehow. Don’t let it get to you,” he said.

“I promise,” I nodded seriously.

A small hand tugged at my jeans. “Daddy, I’m sorry. I know we’re not supposed to talk to strangers. But he said he knew you.” I looked down at Bronx still scared looking face and guilt settled itself in my gut again.

“It’s okay, buddy, it wasn’t your fault. But next time when someone says they know me and you’ve never seen them before, don’t believe them, okay?”

Bronx nodded firmly. “People say they know you because you’re famous,” he mused. “But they don’t know you, they just know your face.”

“That’s right,” I said, unable to resist the small smile tugging at my lips. “Sorry for all the shouting.”

“Was he a bad guy?” Bandit asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, he said mean things and was doing something I didn’t like.”

The kids looked at each other, then back at me. “Then it’s okay,” Bronx said and Bandit nodded. “But you still shouldn’t have hit him.”

“Yeah, I know. Don’t ever become like me.”

I let them say goodbye to Mikey, then kissed him on the cheek. “Sorry for this mess. I love you. I’ll see you in a week.”

“I’ll see you then. Thanks for the KitKats,” he answered. I left with a smile.

 

 

 

When we had gotten back home, both me and Bandit skittish thanks to the car drive, I did as I had promised Mikey and called Patrick. Frank was still out and the kids went into the backyard to play with Bear, who obviously had missed us dearly judging by the way he was all over the kids, so I sat down on the patio and got out my phone.

“Being famous sucks,” was what I opened with.

“What happened now?” Patrick asked with a sigh.

“There may have been a little incident with a paparazzo.”

“Pete,” he sighed.

“It wasn’t my fault!” I tried to justify myself. “He was intruding on a really freaking personal situation and talking to the kids without permission and then he got really rude. I mean, I shouldn’t have gone all Hulk on him but still…”

“Did you punch him?” He sounded resigned.

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure he’s not gonna press charges or anything.  He got a good story out of it.”

“You mean he knows Mikey is getting psychiatric help or…?”

“Well he’s probably gonna write that I’m a violent, crazy asshole. And about our relationship, too. Not that it’s a big secret but I don’t really want it to go through every gossip site like that,” I said, rubbing my temple. This would have probably bothered me less if we hadn’t been under so much stress already. With Mikey going through therapy and me being torn between family and band worse than ever, this was another stressor we just didn’t need.

“Look, don’t worry about it. Pictures of you two have been circulating since forever, it’s just not been addressed openly yet. Write a tweet or blog post about it or wait what’s gonna happen and then react. Try not to freak out about it, okay? Fuck the world, you’re Pete Wentz.”

I actually had to laugh at that even though I felt like I was falling apart. I had been fraying at the edges for a long time already but now it was like my seams were ripping apart and my filling was coming out.

“Patrick,” I whined, “I just compared myself to an abused teddy bear in my head.”

“I can assure you, you’re not an abused teddy bear. Write, Pete. Get out of your head.”

“How the- how am I supposed to do that? I’m trapped in here, Trick! It’s literally impossible to get out.” Maybe I was a little desperate. Okay, I was really desperate. “I freaked out at a paparazzo today in front of the kids and on top of that I’ve been getting anxiety over driving. Driving!” I hissed into the phone. “Like, I keep picturing how many ways there are to crash and die and the kids are in the car and… shit…”

I heard Patrick draw in a sharp breath on the other end of the line. “Pete, calm down. Breathe.” And I did, because I didn’t have any other choice.

“I don’t want this,” I told him after a moment of trying to compose myself. “I don’t want to be scared of driving my car and have a panic attack whenever I even think about it.”

“Listen, I’m no expert but this sounds like you’re… scared of dying or getting injured in a similar way that Gerard and Lindsey did and… basically hurting Mikey and the kids even more.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “Yeah, you’re right. But I also really don’t wanna die in general.”

“I know. But I don’t know if this fear is just gonna disappear again. I know you don’t want to hear this but you’re the only one Bronx and Bandit can rely on right now so you can’t afford to lose it. Maybe you need help…”

I made a frustrated noise. Yeah, I really didn’t want to hear that. I had never liked therapy, even during the short time period when I had actually gone to my appointments. I had realized why it was necessary but I just didn’t like discussing my innermost thoughts with someone else, well, someone who wasn’t a friend I had known for years and years. And I definitely hadn’t needed it for a long time now. Sure, there had been ups and downs in my life but I had thought that I was finally an adjusted, grown-up, almost-normal citizen. But life just didn’t play that way, I guess.

“Okay. You’re right,” I said after a few seconds of silence. “So, I guess my plans for the near future are writing a blog post, trying not to worry too much and finding a therapist.”

“Nice summary,” Patrick said with a sigh. “But actually do it, alright? We really want you back for the arena tour. And the festivals in the summer, too. Please? I don’t want to have to live through transatlantic flights with a bunch of substitutes for you.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said. “I don’t want to be stuck here physically just as much as I don’t want to be stuck in my own head.”

“Good. That’s gonna make sure you actually do something.”

“Love you, Trick,” I said into the phone, slightly smiling. “Thanks for keeping me sane.”

“I try. Love you, too. Now go feed the gremlins or they’re gonna eat the dog from the sound of it.”

The noises the kids and the dog were making had really continuously been growing louder but I was pretty sure all three of them were happy. Still, Patrick was right. I needed help and the kids needed food. Preferably not in that order.

By next week the only member of this family not in therapy would be Bronx, I thought as I got up and called for the kids to come inside. Well, I had always suspected he was the sanest of us all.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww man, it's been ages since I posted :/ Sorry about that. My writing motivation is a bit low right now and this chapter has been lying around for ages... (Idek if anyone still reads this lmao)

“I feel like the entire world around me is falling apart.“

“Crushing you in the process?”

I nodded.

Yes, I was really doing it. I was currently sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in a therapist’s office and baring my soul. My heart was hammering in my chest and I felt like I was going to throw up. But maybe that was because I had driven here and well, me and cars…

“What’s making you feel this way?”

For a moment I thought about asking her if she was serious. If she didn’t follow the news in any way whatsoever. Then I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. Gerard's death had made the news but everything after that could escape you if you weren’t directly involved or interested – or a very busy person. So I paused for a moment, thinking about how I would open my big explanation. Not that I hadn’t spent a dozen sleepless nights over this or anything.

“My boyfriend’s brother died two months ago,” I said, not feeling like beating around the bush. It had only been two months… Damn. It felt like a lifetime. “And his wife,” I quickly added. “Leaving their little girl behind and we took her in because Mikey – my boyfriend – promised to take care of her and I mean we couldn’t ship her off to Mikey’s parents because they live in goddamn Jersey. That would’ve been unfair.”

“What’s her name?” she asked and I blinked, confused about being interrupted.

“Bandit,” I said, even managing a small smile. Sure, dealing with the kids on my own was hard but they were also the light of my life. Quite literally. Well, sort of.

She nodded but didn’t offer any other comment, so I just decided to continue talking. “And I mean, it’s been hard, obviously. We’re in the public eye so that put additional stress on the entire thing and Mikey obviously wasn’t dealing well with… everything. I knew that. I saw it. And I…”

She eyed me patiently and I just lost it. This was the first time I had to summarize it like this, talk to a person _I didn’t know_ about the fucking devastation that we had felt and the guilt I was still feeling and _I couldn’t do it._ I hunched over and buried my face in my hands. “Fuck!”

“You’re blaming yourself,” she said.

“Of course I am!” I said, exasperated, looking up and letting my hands fall from my face. “Like, not for the accident, I think. It’s not my fault Gerard and Lindsey died. There was no way I could have done anything about that. But I could have helped Mikey, at least, okay? I should’ve been there. Maybe then it wouldn’t have gotten so bad and maybe he wouldn’t have almost killed himself!”

“He attempted suicide?”

I ground my teeth and clenched my fists in an attempt to… yeah, what exactly? Make the memory less painful? Physically remind me that _I should have been there?_

“Not exactly,” I said after a moment. “He just… he and his brother both had problems with alcohol and drug abuse in the past and it came back, of course it did, and he drank a lot the night I came back from being out of the country and also took a lot of pills and I… He could have died. And I think during the time that he was alone there, he _wanted_ to die.”

“You were out of the country doing what?” she asked and that question got to me in different way than the others. I glared at her.

“This feels like an interrogation.”

She smiled apologetically and tilted her head to the side. “Sorry, I’m just trying to find out the details you leave out, either because you forget that I don’t know about them or because you don’t want me to know them. Which is understandable but inconvenient.”

“I’m in a band,” I said. “We just got off a hiatus we were on for the past three years and we’ve got a new album out and we were overseas performing in New Zealand and Australia and Japan and I felt terrible leaving him and the kids alone at home but I also love performing.”

“I see… It says here that you were diagnosed with bipolar disorder when you were younger,” she said, tapping her pen to the form I had had to fill out. “Are you on medication? Since you obviously were not doing regular therapy.”

I grimaced, thanks to the awkward change of topic. “Yeah, I was doing pretty badly as a teenager and in my twenties. I was a lot better, actually, before all of this bad stuff happened again, but yeah, on medication. I’m pretty shit at taking it regularly though, always have been.”

“Alright,” she says, making a note. “I don’t think you finished telling my why you’re here? What exactly made you feel like you had to get help coping with things?”

“I assaulted a paparazzo,” I said immediately because yeah, okay, I was still feeling guilty about it but also kind of proud. Sure, it was a weird mixture but that was basically the description of my life. “Mikey decided to get himself admitted to a clinic to deal with things and I mean, I had already decided to step back a bit from the band business and not do most of the tour dates this summer, but it’s still hard to deal with two kids, one of which is still a bit traumatized, while my boyfriend is in the hospital because _he doesn’t want to live without his brother._ ” I took a deep breath to compose myself. “We went to visit him a couple days ago and this stupid fucking idiot started talking to my kids over a fence and got insulting when I called him out on it and I just couldn’t deal with it anymore. And I was so angry… Afterwards I talked to a few friends and I decided that it was probably time to get help, too, because I don’t really even feel like myself anymore.”

Which was what it came down to. I didn’t feel like myself half of the time and I hated it. I hated feeling so disconnected from myself and the world and my family and my friends. I just wanted everything to go back to normal – my normal – but that was just fucking impossible because there were parts missing, just ripped out, and I didn’t know how to fill the holes.

 

Of course I didn’t magically feel better after that first therapy session and the prospect of talking about my feelings twice a week from now on didn’t exactly fill me with joy either, but I was actively doing something about the horrible gnawing feeling in my gut and the choking fear in my chest and that was a start.

When I got home I saw that I had gotten a text from Mikey while I was driving _food ws nasty. how’s your day?_

I grinned and quickly typed _improving. and my foods gonna be better 2._ Then I went out back because Patrick was here for some last pre-tour planning and some very last minute Brendon-and-Sarah-are-getting-married-oh-god-what-am-I-supposed-to-do-brainstorming. Also he had been watching the kids while I was away getting interrogated slash psychoanalyzed, because Frank was out visiting some other friends.

To be honest I had called him because I was freaking out about not having a date for the wedding. Mikey obviously couldn’t attend – which he was very sorry for – and taking Ash would just make things awkward because seriously, who took their ex-wife with them as their plus one?

“Daddy!” Bronx screamed as he saw me stepping through the back door and he and the dog came running towards me. I picked him up and settled him on my hip – even though he was getting a bit too big for that, but I would probably never admit it to anybody. “Hey buddy,” I grinned. “Did you torture Uncle Patrick?”

He nodded with a very serious face. “Of course,” he said and Patrick and I looked at each other and laughed. Bandit was clinging to his back and waved at me.

“Awesome,” I said. “But more importantly, did you have fun?”

“Yes!” Bandit said instead of Bronx. “But we’re hungry!”

“Well, that’s good, because we’re gonna make dinner now,” I grinned, turning to carry Bronx into the house. "You wanna help?”

They reacted with enthusiasm which, oddly, filled me with a feeling of pride. It felt like we were raising them right and in that moment it just made me so _happy_ because despite the shit we were all going through, Bandit and Bronx were still smiling most of the time, in turn making me smile.

We got them settled in the kitchen setting the table while Patrick and I threw together some stir-fry.

“You know you don’t have to have a date for the wedding, right?” Patrick asked me while cutting a bell pepper.

“Yeah,” I shrugged. “But, I’m not _single_ so it’s weird turning up alone.”

“No, Pete,” he laughed. “Everybody important knows you’re with Mikey. I swear it’s not going to be weird.”

“You can take me,” Bandit said, setting down a glass on the table and then turning to me. “I can be your date.”

I blinked at her. “For Uncle Brendon’s wedding?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Then I can stay up longer.”

“No way, little miss,” I said, chuckling. “I don’t think you’d have much fun at the wedding anyway.”

“But I wanna go,” she pouted and Bronx chimed in with a “Me too!” which did not make things easier. I looked at Patrick for help but he pretended to not have heard a thing and continued to happily chop vegetables.

“Fine,” I sighed. “I’m gonna ask Brendon if you two can come.”

“Yay!”

Well, that should be fun…

 

After dinner the kids asked for permission to play with some of my instruments and I agreed but since they definitely needed supervision for that I grabbed my Laptop and Patrick and I followed the happily bouncing gremlins to the music room.

We would probably not get much done, since Bronx demanded Patrick teach him how to play the guitar – which was almost impossible with his tiny hands. Maybe it was time to buy the kids a children’s guitar – but it was generally just some stuff we had to go over. Mostly everything was booked.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I said when the kids had scampered off to find the drumsticks for the kit I had gotten a few years back because Andy and Patrick had always complained about the lack of drums at my house

“Doing what, spending time with your family?” Patrick asked with a raised eyebrow and I rolled my eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, but there’s no need to worry about it anymore. It’s all planned and done now, rehearsals are going well and the announcement’s made, too.” He shrugged. “The fans are mostly taking it well. It’s a good thing you’re doing, Pete. Look at Bronx and Bandit. They’re happy. _You’re_ keeping them happy. Jesus, why do I even have to tell you this?”

“Because I’m fucked up,” I mumbled, letting my head fall against his shoulder. He sighed and brought his hand up to brush at the hair above my ear.

“I know, but you can’t just change your mind like that. It was your idea to not come on tour and honestly, I was a bit mad at first but I didn’t tell you because I knew it was a good thing to do. It’s not forever, Pete. There will be a lot of other tours. I promise,” he said. “You’re just emotionally exhausted right now.”

And that actually made me chuckle a bit. “That’s one way to put it,” I said.

“Well, it’s true.”

I was about to reply something but we were interrupted by earthshattering sounds. Apparently drumming was teamwork now, since Bandit was working the bass drum and cymbals while Bronx hit the toms and snare with a look of absolute glee on his face. With a movement that that consisted of half-sigh, half-laugh I raised my head from Patrick’s shoulder and looked from him to the kids and back. He met my eyes and raised his shoulder slightly, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

 

 

He actually stayed to tuck the children in with me and then helped me cleaned up because we had left the downstairs in a bit of a mess.

“So,” he said, wiping the countertops in the kitchen while I finished loading the dishwasher, “any news on the becoming Bandit’s guardian thing?”

“They’re processing the paperwork right now,” I said, shrugging. “Apparently I’ve got good chances but there might be a few visits by child services in the beginning because we’re in the public eye and Mikey’s ‘unstable’ and stuff…”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” he handed me a mug I had forgotten next to the toaster, “I mean, you can keep this house together if you really want to and even if it’s messy it’s still obvious that you’re and awesome father.”

I closed the dishwasher and started it. “Thanks,” I said with a lopsided smile.

“It’s a fact, Pete, not a compliment,” he said, throwing the cloth he had used for cleaning at me. “Well, it is, but like… you should see it as positive as I do, too.”

“I do, really,” I said hastily, chucking the piece of fabric back at his head but he ducked and caught it. “They’re fed, they’re clean, and they’re well-rested and mostly happy. What more could I want.” He looked at me with a raised eyebrow and I took a step towards him to get the cloth back. “And,” I added, “I think they’re a good influence on each other. I’m not giving that girl up, even if I have to abduct her and Bronx, flee the country and change my identity.”

“Oh, good, you’re back to grand plans and conspiracy theories.”

We both laughed at that, leaving the kitchen.

“Okay, I better get going,” Patrick said. “Don’t stay up all night watching Game of Thrones.”

“You’re no fun,” I pouted. I had been rewatching the first two seasons because one episode per week just wasn’t enough for me. Also I had never really given up on my escapist ways and that show provided class A distraction.

“No, I am _responsible_ ,” he said with a smirk and we dissolved into laughter again. Yeah, I would definitely be jealous when the other guys got to share a tour bus again and I was stuck at home. But I had a lot on my plate. It was okay.

“Go home,” I said with an eyeroll.

“Fine. Talk to you later, when you decide it’s time to send me inappropriate texts again.”

We hugged and after he had said goodbye to Bear too I closed the door behind him and walked, dog in tow, to the couch. Instead of switching on the TV though I opened my Laptop again. Sure, the reactions to the announcement that I would only do a small part of the shows had been mostly positive, but I was a masochist, so I went to check out Twitter.

I hadn’t really been keeping up, with having my hands full with two kids and my generally chaotic life, but Joe had reported that the story of Mikey being in the clinic was making the rounds – no mention of me punching the paparazzo though, which was a relief but a bit surprising.

Obviously there was a big amount of people who didn’t understand. I had expected that. But when I saw some of the comments while scrolling, I grimaced. I understood they were disappointed but I really didn’t like how some people blamed Mikey or even Bandit for me not going on tour. I could’ve just put Bandit and Bronx in somebody’s care, yeah, but my heart wouldn’t have been in the shows then and it hurt me that people couldn’t see that.

With a sigh I shifted my weight and Bear nuzzled his head against my thigh. “What do you think, boy?” I asked, petting his head absentmindedly, “should I give them something real to talk about?” I grinned at my own joke but even with nothing there to call me out on it, it still fell kind of flat. Bear just made a low whine of approval. “Fine then.” I opened my blog and started typing. I had talked to Mikey briefly about writing a blog entry about the situation and he had given me the ok. I was still kind of insecure because that was a lot of trust. The only things I had ever written about Mikey had either been without mentioning names or just casual day to day happenings. This was different.

_two things_

_yes that story about mikey being in a hospital is true. he’s getting help to deal with gerard and lindsey’s deaths. he’s okay, it’s just that everything sucks a lot right now. i’m proud of him for doing it and i’m going to keep supporting him. in regards to what you can see on the internet, yes, i love mikey and bandit a whole damn lot and think of themas my family, so i’d appreciate it if you’d respect their privacy. they just want to lay low and be themselves for a while. which leads me to number two._

_i know a lot of you are disappointed because i’m not going to be with the guys at most of the shows believe me, i understand. i’d love to be on stage, especially since it’s the first tour after our break. but you also have to believe me when i say that my heart wouldn’t be entirely in it and i’d owe you better than that. i have two little kids at home who depend on me and a lot to deal with. in the meantime, please don’t blame my kids or mikey for the situation. it’s not their fault. i’m sorry i can’t see all of you, but i’ll make up for it, i promise._

I leaned back. Okay, that wasn’t as elaborate as I’d like, but I hoped that it would get the point across. We were happy to share our lives, but it had to be on our terms.


End file.
